


My Fair Thug

by JAinsel



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angry Sex, Betrayal, Cheating, First Time, Jealousy, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Mickey is the one doing the makeover, My Fair (makeover program), My Fair Lady AU, Sexual Content, at the gym, dirty fat Mickey, exercises, fighting & making peace, initial dislike, personal trainer!Ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6024031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAinsel/pseuds/JAinsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's dirty, rude and... well, he's getting fat. He spends his days home eating junk food, wasting his life away. No wonder his sister Mandy is worried about him and decides to do something that's gonna change his whole life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, here I begin the new multichapter. I still don't know how many chapters it's gonna be, though!  
> This is really just the prologue. Ian is going to appear next chapter. I just want to know if you like the premise :)
> 
> *** this fic is now also in [Russian!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4437438/11543558) Thank you Mary <3

Mickey loved his sister. He truly did. He might say that she's a skank, she's stupid, she's clumsy or that he totally can't suffer her, but they were all lies. Yet, whenever that dumb bitch jumped on the 'let's bust Mickey's balls with my stupid shit' wagon, he'd always feel that strong impulse to choke the life out of her.

Of course he couldn't do such a thing, so in the last years he had managed to develop this awesome skill that is basically tuning her fucking voice off.

"You can't always spend your days home, Mick. Look at you, you're getting fat, you're not a fucking teenager anymore. You can't just eat junk food and drink that much beer and... Are you fucking listening to me?! Spit out that fucking onion ring!"

Mickey wasn't paying attention to his sister's ramblings and he was lazily eating the cold leftovers of the onion rings he had bought the day before from that greasy place down the corner. He gulped down the soggy fried piece and washed the awful taste with a sip out of his beer.

"What the fuck, Mick!"

Mandy hit the table with her fist, finally getting her brother's attention.

"What," he spat.

She sighed and shook her head. "You can't do this shit, Mick. This is… Not healthy. Except from when you’re dealing you’re always home. I don’t live with you anymore so I can’t always keep an eye on you. You eat and drink and watch television. You don’t have a life.”

Mickey shrugged. “It’s none of your goddamn business what I do or don’t,” he said, wiping the grease from his face with the hem of his jumper. It was already stained and in need of a washing anyway.

His sister grimaced. “You’re such a pig.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

“I may be one but at least I'm not wasting my entire existence like you are.”

Mickey decided to avoid any further conversation by moving to the couch. He put his feet on the coffee table and turned on the television. Mandy rolled her eyes but dropped the subject, at least for the moment. She instead grabbed a magazine from her purse and sat down next to her brother.

“You stink, by the way,” she said because she just couldn’t help it.

“You too, your perfume makes me puke.”

Mandy elbowed him in the rib cage and started to read, putting on a show of completely ignoring that stupid brother of hers.

They remained in a peaceful silence, with Mickey eating Cheese Balls directly from the jar and Mandy deep in reading her favorite magazine Joy. When his sister wasn’t so determined to talk his ears off, she was a good companion. She’d just sat in silence next to him and sometimes they’d play some video game. If only she could keep her mouth shut…

“You know. This article seems made for you,” she said, interrupting the quiet and peace in the room.

Mickey sighed. “Oh yeah? Is it about men who kill their annoying sisters?”

She looked at him, bemused. “No, dickhead. They’re holding the selection for the next My Fair.”

He frowned. “My what?”

“My Fair. Last was My Fair Hally, she just finished her year -well, ten months actually- with great success. She lost so many pounds and she looks awesome. I mean when she started she was this fat middle aged lady who couldn’t keep a man even if she tried. But look now.”

She showed Mickey the page she was reading, pointing at one picture of this caramel skinned woman with fantastic teeth who looked more like a diva than a mother of three.

“Hally just let herself go, you know? Like you.” She obtained a sneer from her brother. “She has three kids and an alienating job - well not anymore, she’s a dentist’s assistant now and she loves it. She’d taken classes but never applied for the job, can you believe it? - anyway, she got selected for My Fair...2015 and now she looks awesome!”

“What’s this shit anyway?” he asked. He wasn’t really interested, but she seemed to be and he much preferred Mandy rambling about this magazine thing rather than about him.

Mandy smiled. “Glad you asked. It’s this, you know, before and after thing? If you get selected they’ll spend time and resources for ten fucking months trying to help you achieve a better version of yourself. Like in the movie, My Fair Lady, we watched it together, remember?”

Oh yes, he did remember. The characters fucking sang. He thought that shit was just in the Disney movies.

“For each selected individual of course it’s different. Hally just needed a little push to find her past self and be again ambitious and totally kick-ass. The 2014 contestant, this Bridget? Brittany? Whatever. She was this stupid chick  always chewing on her gum who couldn’t say one sentence without using ‘like’ every two words. Horrible. They spent so many weeks just to improve her diction. Like in the movie, The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane, right? She had great green hair though. They made her going back to be a brunette. But she looked so cute. She found a boyfriend in the end, a really great guy. I think they’re still together.”

“Huh. Good for her.”

“Absolutely! You think so too, right? They start around January with the first interview and then once every month. Plus on their website you can check how they’re doing. You can watch their videos for example. Pictures, and so on and so forth. Some are fucking funny, especially in the beginning when they haven’t seen a gym in ages. Others are… No. Really, some are so moving. I could show you one if you want-”

“Hold your horses, sis. Don’t fucking care.” Mickey decided to stop her from trying to get him involved in watching videos together. Last time she had succeeded he had had to go through several funny cats videos and fuck if now he hated cats. Damn furry adorable things.

She sighed. “Oh, c’mon, Mick. They’re such nice stories. These people… they got to turn around their lives. Don’t you think it’s great? I think it is. I mean, take yourself, for example. You’re a loser right now. You should lose those fifty-sixty pounds-”

“Hey!”

“And get in shape again, dress better and cleaner and maybe also learn how to talk without cursing-”

“Fuck you!”

“My point exactly. Also, you could get a job? You could at least get your GED. That wouldn’t be bad, would it?”

Mickey shrugged. Deep down he knew that she was only saying the truth, but that didn’t mean he wanted to follow her advice. He was good there, in his pigsty. Why bother? He was fucked up for life anyway.

“You’d make such a good new My Fair.”

And that’s when Mickey finally caught the drift, while holding a few Cheese Balls in his hand.

“Excuse me?”

Mandy smiled. “Look, you’re already expressing yourself better.”

Mickey’s eyes widened.

“Fuck no!”

Mandy had a half smirk going on, as if she wasn’t sure whether to grin or run for her dear life.

“Why not! You’d make the perfect candidate! I can already imagine the snapshots ‘before’ and ‘after’!”

Mickey threw the Cheese Balls at her.

“Fuck you, bitch! You should do the show, you dress like a slut.”

“But you need it more than I do! I want to help you, you assface!” she retorted. She grabbed a handful of Cheese Balls and threw them against Mickey. He replied by doing the same.

They threw Cheese Balls at each other for several minutes before Mickey spoke again.

“Don’t even mention the fucking My Fair shit, you got it?” he said, huffing and puffing because, hell, he was really out of shape. Cholesterol and smoking were though on his body.

Mandy nodded and went to the bathroom to wash off the cheese powder from her hair.

“Not gonna mention it again, all right,” she conceded and went to sit back on the couch. She put away her magazine and spent the whole afternoon in her brother’s company watching stupid crap on television.

Mickey really thought the My Fair topic was over. What a stupid thing to believe.

 

***

 

Mandy disconnected the call. It was only when she was sure nobody was listening to her that she whispered

“Shit.”

Now what was she going to do? Maybe she should call them back and tell them that he was sick or something. But she had already said yes…

Fuck fuck shit fuck.

What was she supposed to do now?

She had done it for him, but now she felt like the wicked witch of that Dorothy girl. He was so going to eat her alive.

Mandy took her time deciding what to do. She rocked the chair she was sitting on back and forth. Thinking about it, she was safe for the moment, hiding in her apartment. Then all she had to do was buying a very resistant lock for the door and strong bars for all the windows. Oh and never get out of her apartment like ever again. Totally doable.

She sighed.

She had given them all his details so it was only a matter of time before they’d reach out to him. She must tell him first. Maybe also reminding him that she knew that deep down he loved her.

“Oh, hell.”

She unlocked her phone and picked her brother’s number from her contacts. She hoped he was in a good mood.

“Not a good time,” Mickey immediately answered.

So much for the good mood.

“You don’t have a bit of your time for your beloved sister?”

She could feel his eye rolling.

“The fuck do you want.”

“Yes, huh.” She faked the best cheerful voice she could muster. “Congratulations, bro! You won!”

“The fuck?”

“You never won anything. So aren’t you happy? Lucky you!”

“Skank, what the fuck are you on about?” Mickey’s voice appeared rather irritated. Mandy braced herself for hearing him screaming instead.

“Huh, you remember that thing I told you about a month ago, the magazine… the selection for the next My Fair-”

“Yeah. So what? Mands, I need to go, just spit it out-” Mickey took pause and Mandy bit her bottom lip. Mickey just got it. “Bitch, what the fuck did you do!?”

“I’m so sorry, Mick!" She shouted. "I was home with my friend and we thought it would be funny to put you in the competition… So we just sent them your details, pictures… It’s not my fault it they have chosen you to be the next My Fair!”

The yelling and curses that followed right after made Mandy regret always meddling so much in her brother’s life.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com)


	2. The interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey meets Ian and a bunch of other people. He'd really just like to go home.

Mickey was standing outside the golden doors of the building where the magazine Joy had its editorial office. They had told him to come dressed as he preferred and so he did. He was wearing stained baggy jeans and an old brownish jumper. He wanted to show the production how much he didn't care.

Of course he wasn't going inside alone. Not a chance in hell.

Where was that damn skank?

It was her fault if he was there in the first place.

He decided to waste a little time smoking a cigarette, like he had done for the previous fifteen minutes. Three cigarette butts were on the floor testifying for the time he had already spent cursing his sister in front of the building.

Why had he agreed to this farce anyway? He glanced at the golden tag where the letters JOY were engraved.

Fuck.

If Mandy wasn't showing up within five minutes he would've gone home, the hell with everything. It didn't matter that he had already signed the contract.

It was also cold and snow was slowly falling on the sidewalk. This was a good time to stay home, drinking eggnog and watching television. But fuck no, he was standing outside, freezing himself for something he had never asked for.

“I'm so sorry, Mick!”

Mickey turned his head to see Mandy approaching him, an apologizing expression on her face.

“For what? Coming late or involving me in this shit?” Mickey mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “For the delay, assface. I've already apologized enough for the other thing. I was trying on a few clothes and I lost track of time.”

To make her point she half opened her coat to let him see her final choice for wearing.

“Slutty, I see.” Mickey scoffed. She had put too much effort for _his_ fucking interview. “Think they're gonna choose you to be one of their models?”

Mandy hit him on the back. “Fuck you. I'm just dressed nice. Hope you're wearing something decent under that old jacket.”

Mickey shrugged. He was so not wearing decent clothing but boohoo who fucking cared.

It wasn't like he wanted to be there anyway. For real, how the hell had he come to accept being the next My Fair?

 

***

 

“You bitch! You're fucking delusional if you think I'm gonna do it!” Mickey spat. He had to go out but instead he started moving in circles around the living room.

“C’mon why not! It's not like you have anything to lose!” Mandy said.

“My rep?”

“Ahah bitch, you wish!” Mandy cackled. “You're the fat lazy ass dealer ‘round the block.”

She was lucky she wasn't there or Mickey would've headbutted her. Mickey looked down at his beer belly. It was a normal, slightly larger than average belly, so what if he had gained weight in the last years?

He eyerolled at himself. He was aware he got fat and unappealing. Still he didn't need his fucking sister to remind him of it. Again, not of her fucking business.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” he said very eloquently.

Mandy only let one minute pass before asking again

“So? You'll do it?”

“Fuck off. Why should I do something so stupid and embarrassing?”

“Thank you for the question, dear brother. I have a list here…” Mickey heard some paper shuffling on the other side of the line.“Oh, here they are. So, first thing, the magazine is barely known in the South Side. Then, huh, you'll get paid for it.”

“How much?”

“Not that much, but the fact that they pay you to give them your time for improving yourself... 's not bad right?”

“I make more by dealing.”

“You can still deal on the side. Not like you won't have any free time. And-”

“Right, about that.” Mickey interrupted. “How long is this shit for again?”

He heard Mandy sigh on the other side of the line. “Ten months.”

“Mands-"

“I know! I know! It's a lot but, but think about it. It's not like every  fucking day and they'll give you lots of stuff for free!”

“What stuff?” That peaked his interest, even if just a little bit.

“Designer clothes! And gym machinery! All for you to keep. You can sell them after the program for thousands!”

Ten months of this ordeal for what? A few grands and the high risk of being discovered by the whole South Side. Barely known magazine in the neighborhood meant shit if even only one chatterbox read it and started to talk. Everything in him was suggesting it was a bad idea.

And yet.

Mandy seemed so set on what she thought was the ultimate solution to make him better. She truly wanted to help her big brother. Adding to that Mickey had never seen her so involved in a project, being so fucking cheerful since her divorce. A wreckage that still made Mickey feel guilty.

In the end, it was ten bothersome months against her sister's happiness.

“I'll think about it,” he said, although it was more of a grumble than real, distinguishable words.

“What?”

“I said I'll think about it.”

Mandy must had decided that ‘think about something’ equaled actually doing it because she started screaming like a little girl receiving a pony for her birthday.

He couldn't help a smile.

Maybe he didn't make such a bad choice after all.

 

***

 

He had made a bad choice, after all. That was what Mickey thought the moment they crossed the threshold to the magazine offices. All eyes were focused on them. He should have fucking know. What he and Mandy had to do with all these fashionable people? He didn’t shave and his beard was all patchy, he was dressed like a bum and maybe should’ve showered. His sister was just too much: too much make up, too many colors, too short skirt. Probably also too much perfume.

“Hey, if you wanna go, we’re still on time,” Mickey half whispered at his sister’s direction. Mandy opened her mouth to talk, but a feminine voice that wasn’t hers called for him.

“Mickey! You’re Mickey, right? Milkovich?” asked a blond woman, approaching them. She had a nice smile on her face, professional but with a hint of malice that seemed like her trademark. “I’m Jasmine Hollander. I’ll be your interviewer now and at the end of the program.”

She outstretched her hand to shake it with Mickey but he wasn’t used to the standard form of greeting called 'handshake' and moved his hand in the wrong manner, causing him to just shake her thumb. After a moment of embarrassment, the man awkwardly moved away and let his sister introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Mandy, his beloved sister. I’m here to give him all my support.”

Jasmine looked at her up and down with a sly smile. Was that woman checking his sister out?

“Good, it’s always nice to know our Fairs are supported by their family.”

Mickey snickered. Like he had ever had his father’s support. Not even from the grave, may his soul not rest in peace.

“It's important because our Fairs go through a big change,” Jasmine was speaking while leading them to the studio where they were going to have the interview. “Now. This first interview is gonna be simple, like a warming up, you know, to know you and for you to meet the team who will take care of you. Next one will be in November in front of all the people we'll invite to your final part, when we'll say goodbye.”

Mickey sent a worried glance at his sister, who only shrugged. He didn’t want to be followed by a fucking team. Mandy had left that small detail out. That bitch.

“Sure…” he answered, elbowing his sister in her side with discretion.

“You seem pretty excited, Mickey,” Jasmine said, confusing his elbowing his sister with a friendly pat on the back. “I am too! This is my fifth year presenting My Fair, but every time is still so, wow, so much energy, you know?”

No, he definitely didn’t.

“That’s why I came here to escort you. They say I should send my assistant, but who cares, right? I wanted to meet you face to face first.”

Mickey could only nod and finally she opened the door for the right studio. He didn't even have the time to look around that he was grabbed and dragged behind a screen by a man and a woman both with weird as fuck hairstyles.

Mickey noticed there was a rack full of clothes. Mostly torn up jeans and worn shirts. Was he supposed to wear them?

Apparently not.

“You know what? You look perfect just as you are right now,” the woman with green hair said, her male counterpart nodded.

“Your style is so on spot!”

Was the weird man complimenting him for dressing like a homeless? It wasn't an intentional choice, rather his usual style. Mickey could only shrug.

“And the beard, it’s so… so…” The man sighed in exasperation, as if he didn’t know how to express the beauty of that patchy beard with words.

“Horribly perfect,” the woman said and he nodded again. “Just the right combination with the, huh, shabby choice of wearing.”

Mickey frowned. “You do know I’m here, right?”

He could fucking hear what they were saying. They were kind of insulting him with a smile. An incredible white one, to add.

“Of course we do, dear,” she said. “I’m Melissa, by the way. And this is Raoul.”

Raoul was ready to shake Mickey’s hand, but the black haired man stayed still. He was so not going to repeat the awkwardness from before. He only moved his chin as a greeting.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Mickey asked. As pitiful as it was, he wished his sister had followed him. He didn’t want to be with with these weird people alone. Raoul had a fucking long goatee with fucking glitters in it and he wore eyeliner around his eyelids. Mickey shivered in horror. What kind of guy would do that to his face? He looked ridiculous.

“Nothing much,” Melissa said with a little sigh. “You can keep your clothes, we just need to put some foundation on. Your skin is pretty, I have to say, but with the lights and the cameras… You need it.”

Mickey was bewildered. “I need fucking what?”

“Foundation,” Melissa repeated in slow motion.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna put that shit on my face,” Mickey said. What the fuck. “I’m not a fucking transvestite.”

Melissa and Raoul snickered, shaking their heads at him.

“It’s for the cameras and you won’t even notice, promise.”

Mickey made a step back. He was going to bolt…

“Put the fucking foundation on, for Christ’s sake!” Mandy popped with her head from behind the screen. “Don’t be a pussy, Mick.”

“Ain’t no pussy,” Mickey immediately defended himself “But this-”

The weird duo preyed on his distraction to throw him on a chair and put the fucking make up on.

“See? Can’t even notice, right?” Melissa commented after she and her partner in crime let him go.

Mickey shot her, and then his sister, a death glare. Yet she was right, he thought once he took a look at the mirror. His skin looked the same, just more, more…

“Your skin is more uniform,” Raoul supplied. Mickey shot him a death glare too, just cause.

Melissa decided to put some gel on Mickey’s hair before letting him go and the black haired man sighed in relief. Unfortunately for him, yes, he had put some distance from those two glittery aliens. But what was waiting for him in the interview room, was something far more worse for a South Side thug such as himself.

It was a room full of North Side people.

Melissa and Raoul's accent defined them as from New Jersey, but all the people waiting for him in the room now were hands down representatives of that little snobbish elite that looked down on low class citizens like Mickey and his sister. Jasmine was one of them, but she seemed cool enough. The problem was the other presents.

There were a cameraman and a few of his assistants, all of them looking fresh out of college. The interviewer was sitting on a comfortable armchair and on the couch next to her sat a fat guy (yes, fatter than himself, jeez) around his fifty and a young man about Mickey’s age, maybe a tad younger. Who were they? They didn’t look like they needed a makeover. The fat man looked neat and well dressed with his grey slacks and grey vest. His hair were longish, about his neck and the beard was nicely trimmed. Mickey was sure the strong stink of perfume he was smelling was coming from him. The young man was definitely attractive, instead. Red hair, white porcelain skin, a bit of a coppery scruff that looked so damn hot on the guy. He was wearing fitted pants and a tight shirt that didn’t do anything to conceal the bulging of his muscles underneath the clothing. Fuck, was he a model or something?

Then the redhead caught his eyes and raised one eyebrow. His expression was slightly disgusted, he must think Mickey was scum. The redhead said something to Jasmine, who chuckled and looked behind to wave at Mickey.

“Mickey, c’mere! We need to start.”

Mickey hadn’t notice his sister’s presence until she pushed him.

“Just move, assface!” she whispered, forcing him to move and go sit on the other armchair left.

All eyes were now on him and he wished he could sink in the armchair. He was right in front of the redhead, who didn’t seem to like him much already, his stunning green eyes appraising him and not deeming him worthy enough for the redhead to even greet him. Well, not like Mickey had greeted anyone yet, but he was fucking nervous. The man with the goatee looked far more interested in the thug and he smiled at him with warmth.

“Hi, I’m Scott,” he introduced himself, while Jasmine was barking orders at the cameraman’s assistants.

“Huh, Mickey.”

“I know. We’ll have so much fun together, honey.”

 _Honey_? What the fuck?

The redhead must have seen the look of horror pictured on Mickey’s face because he snickered. Mickey wanted to say something, but Jasmine interrupted.

“Okay, guys. Let’s begin.”

Scott and the redhead immediately smiled, ready for the camera and Mickey tried to do the same, resulting in a painful grimace kind of smile. He just wasn’t suited to be on stage.

He saw Mandy, standing behind the cameraman. She had explained to him that the full interview would be posted online on the magazine site, while an article would be published on the next magazine issue scheduled for the week after. His sister had assured him it was going to be informal, just a getting to know each others, really.

He didn’t even hear Jasmine speaking, too busy trying to tell himself he was alright, until she had to call his name. Twice.

“Mickey?”

At the third time, Mickey heard. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, trying to focus on her.

“I’m sure our followers want to know more about you, Mickey,” she started and he found himself nodding, because he didn't know what else to do. “You’re the participant of this sixth edition and I’m so excited about you because you don’t strike as someone who would ever ask for help. And yet you did, I’m so proud of you.”

Mickey didn’t comment on it. His fucking sister asked in his place. He didn't need any fucking help.

“You’re from the South Side, right? In your email you told us that you never had a easy life, you were born among poverty and violence and since your father’s death after a shooting, you weren’t able to move on, barricading yourself in your house. You don’t have a girlfriend in several years, if I'm not wrong.”

The black haired man wasn’t even looking at her, his glare was set on incinerating his sister. What the fuck? She had told about his fucking life to strangers? He was so going to strangle her as soon as they were alone. Mandy grew smaller and smaller under his accusing stare and she could only smile weakly at him.

“Mickey?”

Again, Jasmine had to call him to get his attention.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, huh.” He turned his eyes back on her, purposefully ignoring Scott and the redhead.

The blond interviewer looked at him with sympathy. “You’re nervous to be in front of a camera? Just focus on me.”

She had probably mistaken him curling his hand into fists with nervousness instead of a desire to whack his own sister. But she wasn't that wrong in any case.

“Sure,” Mickey said, noticing that his palms were sweaty. Was it just him or the lights of the camera were too hot?

Okay, maybe he was also a little nervous. But the last time he had been in front of a camera had been when he was a passerby after a gruesome shooting in his neighborhood. He had only flipped off the journalist who had wanted to know his impressions.

“We, of my My Fair, are so happy to have the possibility to give you the chance you should have in your life. We do hope that our makeover will help you reach your goals,” she smiled gently at him. “Goals that you maybe don’t even know you have, yet. But in the last editions we saw our participants thrive in their lives, finally able to express their true selves that they had almost forgotten.”

Mickey wanted to scoff at her words. Thrive in his fucked up life. Sure.

Even so, he was the only one who could scoff at her words. Instead he heard the redhead snicker. Really? The redhead thought it was hilarious for Mickey to fucking do something with his life? He wasn’t wrong, but still. The guy needed a beat up, attractive or not he remained a douchebag.

Jasmine saw Mickey looking at the bastard and she waved at the two man on the couch.

“Oh, I introduced them before, but I guess you were really too nervous,” she chuckled. “Mickey, this is Ian, he will be your personal trainer for these ten months you’ll be part of our family. He looks like an angel, I know, but don’t let the appearance misguide you, he’s a really hard ass, you’ll need to follow his instructions.”

Mickey looked at the redhead -Ian- and he had no doubt that he was a hard ass. A prick, too. He could only hope he wasn't going to see Ian that often. Maybe the redhead would just give him a few exercise s to do and leave him the fuck alone.

Ian smiled at him, but it looked fake as hell. It was pretty clear he didn’t like Mickey and Mickey was already set on not liking him as well. Pretty face and hot body, alright, but the attitude was not gonna do. Not that Mickey would actually do anything anyway. It had been years since he had proper sex.

Mickey didn’t bother responding.

Jasmine didn’t seem bothered by the lack of greetings and she introduced Scott.

“And this is Scott, he’s your… well, he’s gonna be your fairy godmother. He’s our fairy godmother, actually. He’s been with us since edition one.” Jasmine touched Scott’s knee in a light caress and he smiled proudly. “He’s gonna teach you how to be your better self.”

Mickey nodded. Again. He didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to say something? Should he just sit and stay quiet? He only wanted to go home already. Too much North Side air was bad for his lungs. The interview continued and Mickey’s only contribute was moving his head up and down and say words such as ‘Yeah’, and ‘Sure’. He had never felt so embarrassed before in his entire life, not even when he had woken up after a bad hangover completely naked in front of the El’s gate. He had been still in his habitat, the South Side. Here he felt like a sore thumb. Maybe he should’ve dressed nicer after all.

Plus that ginger motherfucker looked him down so up and mighty, like he was that much better.

And maybe he was, but not the fucking point.

The interview mercifully ended and Mickey sighed in relief. It was over. Fucking finally. Mickey stood up to grab his sister and go away, but he saw Mandy chatting amiably with the cameraman and he rolled his eyes. Fuck this shit, he was going, with or without his sister.

“They brought in refreshments, Mickey,” said Jasmine, pointing to a small buffet situated in a corner. She looked at him kindly and Mickey didn’t have it in him to tell her to fuck off because he wanted to run away. He found himself nodding again and went to drown that fucked up situation with whatever alcohol they had.

He was gulping down a glass of white wine, when Scott approached him.

“You’re so cute, you know. Being all shy in front of the camera. Or are you genuinely a man of a few words? I’ll have to correct that, even if it’s kinda sexy,” Scott said with a small huff. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

“Shut the fuck up fatass,” Mickey blurted out. Oh, fucking finally. Alcohol was helping him lose his stiffness.

Scott’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expect that. Yet Mickey’s demeanor should have suggested it. “Honey, what a potty mouth!” Scott recollected himself almost immediately. “And you shouldn't say ‘fatass’ to other people. It’s not cute, especially when you have an adorable muffin top yourself.”

“What?” Mickey looked down at his belly and then at the fairy godmother’s belly. “You’re way fatter than I am!”

The other chuckled. “We should train together then. I’m sure Ian wouldn’t mind my presence.”

“Well, I do. I don’t wanna be next to you more than necessary, you fucking queer.”

Mickey turned his back to Scott and walked towards the food table. He didn’t even stop for one second to look back or feel sorry for the man, who was just trying to be friendly (other than a little flirty). But Mickey didn’t know what to do in presence of a faggot other than bashing him. And that included his own mirror reflection. Maybe there was a reason why he just let his beard grow. He couldn't bear to look at himself for too long. Because the truth was in himself, in his eyes that kept glancing at men, in his groins that didn’t desire to fuck women. And Mickey hated it. Hated him. His self.

Scott hadn’t even scraped the surface of Mickey’s hatred.

One of the assistants was standing between Mickey and the tasty looking sandwiches, his tall, lanky figure hovering above the cupcake platter. He looked in the middle of an internal battle, choosing between the red velvet and the double fudge chocolate one.

“Move the fuck away, Cupcake,” Mickey said, with his usual kindness.

The assistant looked at Mickey with a glint of fear in his eyes and that satisfied Mickey. He needed to see fear in other people sometimes, especially after an interview where he had not been able to fucking speak for himself.

“Huh, sorry?” he said, moving as Mickey ordered.

The dark haired man only grunted and took a sandwich without looking at its stuffing. He took a bite and grimaced. No meat. Who the fuck ate that vegan shit? Still, he continued to eat it because the flavor was not so bad in the end.

“I think I should introduce myself…” the assistant said, distracting Mickey from the last bite.

“Ya think?”

The assistant smiled nervously. “No, I have to. But not like I have to but I don’t want to, it’s just that I’m Jasmine’s assistant and we’ll see each other quite frequently and… huh…”

“Thought you were the cameraman’s assistant,” Mickey said. He liked to see that that poor guy was more nervous than he had been at the interview. It made him feel better. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie,” he replied immediately. He ran a hand through his light hair. “And no, I’m Jasmine’s. I mean, Jasmine’s assistant. She and I, we… uhg, no. She’s a beautiful woman I guess, but… No, yeah, I’m her assistant and I’m going to see you every other week to, huh, to keep your progress updated.”

Mickey scoffed. “Whatever, man.”

He wasn’t worried about seeing Eddie from time to time. Even Scott. He only needed to be scary with them, to let them know he was never going to be their friend.

The problem was the other guy. That Ian. The redhead clearly wasn’t interested in becoming acquainted with him and that wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that he looked at Mickey as if he was dirt under his nail. And Mickey couldn’t even punch him! He actually had to train with the guy. Looking at him, smiling and talking to Jasmine, Mickey thought ten months never seemed longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any doubts:  
> Jasmine Hollander, Cupcake/Eddie and Scott are canon. Do you remember who they are?  
> Jasmine is of course Fiona's Jasmine. Cupcake is the guy in the park Mickey finds in 5x12. Scott is the guy at the White Swallow who tries to get in Mickey's pants, but Mickey likes them skinny XD
> 
> You know I love comments and kudos! <3  
> My tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	3. The gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian takes Mickey to the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ian's POV

“Ian, come sit!” 

Jasmine called the redhead as soon as he spotted him in the room. Ian smiled at her, going for a hug and a kiss.

“Hi, Jas,” he greeted her and then he gave his attention to the man already sitting on the couch, next to his spot. “Hey Scott. Enjoyed the festivities, I see.”

The man chuckled as Ian poked his belly with a finger and enveloped the young man in a maybe longer-than-necessary embrace. 

“I’m already fifty one, my dear. I can’t get all the men I wanted like before, at least let me enjoy the food!” Scott said and Jasmine laughed.

“You old dog!” she exclaimed as Ian sat in his place with a smile curling on his face. 

That was the moment he noticed that a forty-something, eccentrically dressed woman was staring at him with heart-eyes. He was used to capturing attention, but as he leaned into ask Jasmine who the heart-eyed woman might be, she turned her gaze to take peek behind the screen that divided the room from the make-up station.

“Put the fucking foundation on, for Christ’s sake!” The woman yelled at someone. “Don’t be a pussy, Mick.”

Her words were followed by some ruckus and when Ian turned again his attention to the partition, a bearded man had appeared. He was looking at Ian with some kind of awe – again, Ian was used to it. He knew he was a good looking man; girls wanted to fuck him and men? Men either wanted to be like him and/or fuck him too. Regardless, Ian didn’t like this guy’s stare. It was different from the kind of stare men he frequently found himself with nowadays gave him. This guy's eyes told another story – one from home, one from South Side. 

“Is that the participant?” Ian asked Jasmin. He wished it wasn’t the case. “Please, just tell me no.”

Jasmin chuckled. “Oh, Ian. You’re terrible.”

She looked back and waved at the bearded man. 

“Mickey, c’mere! We need to start.”

The man -Mickey- was pushed by his sister to the center of the room and he sat on the empty armchair. He looked so out-of-place that Ian almost felt sorry for him. Jasmine began the interview, but it was clear that Mickey wasn't listening. He looked agitated and ready to run. Ian hoped it wasn't the case.

It wasn’t. As a matter of fact, that thuggish man stayed until the end of the interview, sweating and fisting his hands. He was a bomb ready to explode. Mickey was so perfectly South Side it was ridiculous and Ian couldn’t understand if the pang he was feeling at his stomach was due to homesickness or disgust for the man. He decided on the latter.

When the interview ended, Ian lost a few minutes in conversation with Jasmine. She was funny when she wanted to be and it was nice talking to her. He remembered that both her and Scott had been nice to him when he had first started working with My Fair.

“Huh, Ian?”

He heard a feminine voice calling for him. He turned his head to see the flashy dressed woman from before. Up close, he noticed she also caked on makeup so she was probably younger than she looked. Maybe she was thirty like himself? He couldn’t really tell. She kept staring at him and Ian remembered he was supposed to say something.

“Yes?” 

“Hi, I’m Mandy. Could you sign this?” She smiled and she gave him a small notebook and a pen. “I don’t usually go around asking for autographs but since I accompanied my brother here…”

Ian took the notebook and pen, scribbling his signature. “So Mickey’s your brother.”

She nodded. “Yes! And I’m so glad you’re his personal trainer! The guy they had before was so awful, but you? I have to tell you, my brother is fucking handful but he’s a good man, I assure you. It’s just...”

Mandy was talking about her brother, but Ian was only half listening to her. Where did Jasmine go? Ian saw her at the drinks table and sighed. She had left him alone with this woman. It was not just her brother, she screamed South Side too. From her skanky clothes to her speech. Fuck, he just wanted to get away from these people, at least until he could avoid them.

“So yeah, thank you for your attention and have a good day,” Mandy said. She smiled at him but Ian understood that she was being sarcastic. She had noticed his lack of focus and he couldn’t really blame her.

“Have a good day too,” he replied. 

As she walked away, Ian felt a glacial shiver run through him as though he was being stared at. His eyes followed the coldness until they locked with icy blue eyes. Mickey had seen the way he had treated his sister and he didn’t look so happy about it.

 

***

 

Ian had just finished his training session with the punching bag, when his cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his breath still heavy and fast from the exertion. 

“Ian, that man is douchebag.” From the other side of the line, came a voice with a strong Russian accent. “Not polite too.”

“Hello to you too, Lana,” Ian chuckled. “I gather you talked with my new protegé.”

“Yes. He has dirty mouth and he told me to fuck off. Was drunk I think.”

Ian rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, a drunk South Side thug. “But did you tell him about tomorrow?”

“Of course I did. If he listened, I do not know.”

Fantastic.

“Ok, Lana, thanks. Really hope he listened or tomorrow's gonna be awkward.”

He heard Svetlana laugh. “Good luck, Howdy Doody.”

“Night, Lana.”

Ian ended the call and headed for the shower. Yeah, good luck to him indeed.

 

***

 

At 6:12 in the fucking morning, Ian Gallagher found himself standing in front of a run-down building in South Side, waiting to be buzzed in.

Nothing. He would’ve had more luck if he had tried to win at the lottery. 

“Ian? What are we gonna do?” Alec, the cameraman, asked. Ian shrugged and rang the intercom again. 

What the fuck? Couldn’t that fucker Milkovich hear the ringing?

Ian tried for another minute, not moving his finger from the fucking button. 

It was all for nothing, until two girls wearing blue scrubs and coats opened the front door to get in. Ian and the crew followed suit. They stopped on the third floor (of course, no elevators in the shitty apartment block) and Ian knocked on the door with the number 4B next to it.

“You sure he’s home?” Alec asked.

Ian rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not sure. I know as much as you do, Al.”

Ian knocked again. He wanted to shout Mickey’s name but it seemed something rude to do at 6:20 AM on a floor where other people lived. Still, he could keep on knocking and, even more so, ringing at the doorbell.

This time Mickey actually deigned himself to answer.

“What the fuck!” the dark haired man exclaimed, slamming the door open.

Ian, the cameraman and his assistant were momentarily taken aback by his appearance. Not the reaction per se, but rather his looks. Mickey was a fucking mess; his hair was oily and unruly and his beard was still patchy only now it had orange streaks of cheese powder through it.   The dirty looking man was wearing an old ragged formerly white wife-beater and grimy sweatpants. Ian didn’t even want to try imaging the state of Mickey’s bed – probably loaded with cooties. No, Ian feared catching some disease just by entering the place.

Not that Mickey seemed to have any inclinations whatsoever to invite them in. He was standing by the threshold with a sleepy, yet menacing glare. He didn’t move one inch.

“Hi, Mickey. You remember us? From the interview?” Ian asked. “Svetlana, the receptionist? You spoke with her yesterday, she told you we were coming, right?”

Mickey looked at Ian, his face slightly focused, before opening his mouth in a big yawn and just tell them, “Fuck off.”

He hinted at closing the door, but Ian moved faster and blocked him from doing it.

“Mickey, I get that you’re still hungover and whatever, but we really need to get inside and start the fucking program-”

“I’m actually already taping it” Alec said, the camera already on. Ian turned to look at him in disbelief.

“Seriously?”

Alec only shrugged “They like to see first impressions.”

Sure they did. When it had been Hally she had been so fucking excited to see them and had immediately opened the door. Mickey looked fucking homicidal, especially since Ian had blocked him from slamming the door shut.

“We’re gonna edit it, don’t you worry, Ian,” added the assistant. Ian only shook his redhead.

“Whatever. Listen, Mickey,” His attention was again on the black haired man. “You signed a contract, so now you gotta follow our instructions. I get that you don’t want to and believe me, I’d rather be running by myself right now, but hey, we’re here. So… Man, you gotta open the door for us and let us in.” 

“That sounds almost romantic, Ian,” commented Alec, earning a finger from Ian.

Mickey worried his bottom lip with his thumb, as if to think about what to do, then sighed. “Whatever. You wanna come in, not stopping ya.”

The dirty looking man let them inside and Ian had to stop himself from gagging. He fucking knew it. He had been expecting it, but seeing the pigsty that was Mickey’s apartment was even worst than he thought. There was not a trace of a clean, empty space in there. Everything was scattered everywhere. Smelly socks on the couch, old pizza boxes on the floor. Ian was pretty sure he saw a beetle passing by. It was probably not the only animal species inhabiting the apartment.

Ian exchanged a look with Alec, but the cameraman didn’t seem so appalled by that horrifying exhibition. Ian didn’t even want to know why, Alec had always seemed a bit of a caveman. At least he came to work clean. 

But Mickey… 

Fuck, how could he live like this?

“The fuck do you care?” Mickey snapped, defensive.

“Huh?”  

Fuck, he had spoken out loud?

“How do I live it’s none of your concern.”

“Actually…” Ian cleared his throat, but what he really wanted to do was press a handkerchief to his nose. “Actually, it is my concern. My concern is the magazine’s concern in this case. And this place here? It’s fucking unhealthy, so...”

With great satisfaction, Ian opened a window, letting fresh, cold as fuck air enter the apartment.

“Hey!” Mickey exclaimed.

“Don’t worry about it, Mickey. You’re not gonna stay home for long, anyway.” Ian exhibited his best smile. “Cause we’re going running!”

Mickey’s eyes widened as Ian’s words sank in.

“You’re kidding? It’s snowing outside! You can see that, can’t you?”

“It’s not snowing right this moment. And don’t you worry, we’re gonna jog for a little, just enough distance for us to reach the gym.”

“The gym?”

“Yeah, the gym. You know I’m your trainer, right?”

Mickey looked at the redhead with diffidence. “Huh, sure. You gotta give me some exercises to do and the production’s supposed to get me the machines…”

Ian scoffed. “Of course. But after the first couple of months, when I won’t be needing to see you every other day. Now it’s you and me time and we’re gonna spend the whole morning at the gym.”

Not that Ian was looking forward to it, but Mickey’s face was stricken by an expression of pure horror. 

“But… I thought… my sister…” he rambled, before muttering. “Shit, that bitch is dead.”

“Is there a problem?” Alec asked, pointing the camera at the man.

“Apart from you taping me? Yeah, there’s a problem. I didn’t know I was gonna go to the gym with Freckles here. Not going.”

With those words, Mickey scratched his round belly. He looked ready to go back to bed.

“You signed the contract, Mickey. I’m sorry but you gotta follow my lead.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“You gonna be sued and will probably pay a fee.”

That stopped Mickey from going to his bedroom and get back to sleeping. Money was something people are never willing to give away.

“That damn bitch,” he muttered again. By now Ian was pretty sure he was referring to his sister. She had looked like the one who was a fan of the magazine. Mickey sighed heavily. “What do I need to wear?”

He sounded defeated. A little victory for Ian. 

“Whatever comfortable clothes you got. Clean, if possible.”

Did Mickey notice the not-so-subtle sarcasm?

Maybe, because he gave Ian the middle finger before going to the bedroom.

In the meantime, Ian decided to do a quick inspection of the kitchen. Apart from the undoubtedly unclean/ unhealthy/ probably dangerous environment, Ian noticed that the fridge was only filled with beer and Chinese leftovers. Mickey was in serious need of healthy food and Ian had expected it. 

The man, who probably didn’t even know what quinoa was, came back as Ian closed the fridge. He was wearing comfortable stuff, alright. 

“Did you actually change?” Ian asked. Mickey was wearing the same dirty wife beater and grimy sweats.

“I put on my trainers,” he said with a shrug. “Comfortable, right?”

Ian could only nod and watched Mickey put on a sweater and an old synthetic beanie.  

 

***

 

Maybe it was due to all that nicotine infesting his lungs, or maybe his lack of exercise was at fault. The result was the same. Ian found the thug leaning against the wall gasping and panting after passing the first corner from his house.

Mickey probably liked boasting, because he had sprinted as soon as they had exited the building. He lasted three minutes. Four, tops.

"You shouldn't run like that if you're not used to," Ian said. He earned a death glance from Mickey.

"No... kidding..." Mickey muttered between desperate air-intakes. Fuck, the man looked ready to collapse at any second.

"Want to walk to the gym?" Ian proposed. They were going to freeze just walking, but Mickey didn't seem able to endure even a little jog.

The dark haired man took another, deep breath.

“Yeah..." he said, moving away from the wall. Around him the air was white from all his huffing, whereas his nose was red. That would've looked adorable for anyone. Except him, of course. He kind of remembered Ian of his father, Frank, when they used to find him drunk and still, sleeping in the snow.

"C'mon, then."

Alec and his assistant decided to walk with them. They had the car ready to wait for them at the gym, but Ian and Mickey were only walking. So they decided to accompany them, even if only for moral support.

"Hey, man. You alright?" Alec asked Mickey, pointing the camera at directly at the back of his head. Mickey must have sensed it, because he managed to flip him off without even turning his head.

"Peachy," he answered. Ian looked at the cameraman and shrugged.

"The gym's not that far away," Ian said, trying to look as supportive as he could. Truth was, he was pissed at Mickey for having tried that stunt before, so now they were forced to walk. "Want to try walk a little faster?"

"You walk a little faster, firecrotch. I walk just fine."

Firecrotch? What the fuck? Ian hated that nickname, but decided  not to say anything about it. He really didn’t want to start a fight with that man.

They walked in silence for about a quarter hour, freezing as predicted and with Alec taping them not talking to each other. Splendid. Ian sighed in relief when he spotted the black and blue gym sign. They were finally going to get warm.

  
  
***   
  


  
"This place is for faggots." 

That was the first comment Mickey said once they entered. Ian rolled his eyes.

"Yeah? Let's see how manly you are, tough guy."

Ian took off his sweater and beanie and told Mickey to do the same. He regretted giving the instruction the second later. He had forgotten how dirty that wife-beater was. Luckily, Mickey would get it so soaked in sweat nobody would notice.

"First, we gonna do a little warm up and then we'll hit the weights. Sounds good?"

"No."

"Wonderful,” Ian said ignoring Mickey’s negative response. “We'll start with two series of thirty of jumping jacks. You know them?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows as if saying 'do I look like someone who knows what the fuck they 

are?'. Yes, it seemed that he possessed a very nice pair of expressive eyebrows.

"I'll show you," Ian said and started to hop spreading and closing both his legs and arms, pointing the latter to the ceiling. He performed the first series effortlessly and nodded towards Mickey.

"C'mon, we're doing them together now, follow my rhythm."

"Looks stupid," Mickey commented, looking down at the floor rather than Ian.

“It's a good cardio exercise. And it’s gonna help you expand those shrunken lungs you got.”

“Looks stupid anyway.”

“Yeah, well you gotta do it anyway.”

Mickey looked ready to object, but then he seemed to rethink about it, because he only muttered some obscenities and started with the jumping jacks without waiting for Ian. Without jumping together with the man, Ian had the time to appraise Mickey’s movements. 

Totally, incredibly uncoordinated. He jumped with the grace of a grizzly bear, but at least the animal had enough fur to cover the belly. In Mickey’s case, his flaccid tummy was bouncing up and down with the movements, only partially covered by the tank top, which had raised up too much for Ian’s liking. Ian wanted to think of himself as not shallow, but when he saw men still in their thirties like Mickey already so out of shape, the redhead couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of disgust.

Before Mickey could take notice of where Ian’s eyes were staring, Ian began moving in unison with Mickey's jumps. The black haired man lasted only two more before giving up. He placed a hand against his chest. His heart must be beating like crazy. But that didn't mean he could just stop after twenty jumping jacks.

“Oh, c'mon. We're just at the beginning and there's another series of thirty still.”

Mickey looked at him like he was crazy. “You kidding?”

“Would never dare. This is just the beginning, Mick,” Ian said, ignoring Mickey’s raising eyebrows at the use of the nickname. “After the second series we still got to do many other exercises. Including squats in at least four variations. It’s gonna be… about forty five minutes. Then we’ll hit the weights.”

Mickey’s eyes widened “For how long?”

“Don’t you worry,” Ian smiled, mischievously. “We’re gonna have lots of breaks, especially to keep you hydrated. It’s your first time, after all. I think I could let you go for lunch.”

Ian was able to hear Mickey loudly gulping down.

“Last year I suggested Hally to play the Rocky’s song in her head. She said it worked.”

“Then she's fucking stupid,” Mickey spat. Ian shrugged.

“Just saying.” Then he grinned. “Okay, another series of twenty jumping jacks.”

Mickey groaned but sucked it up and began jumping.

 

***

“C'mon, Mick. Just one more…”

Mickey raised his waist from the mat to touch his ankle again. What he managed to brush against was his thigh before collapsing back.

“Fuck you… and your c'mons… and and…” Mickey had trouble speaking while trying to breathe for his dear life. “And your last times. It's the third time you… said so.”

Ian looked at Mickey as he knelt next to him. 

“Cause you're not doing it right.”

Mickey side glanced at him, his eyes pointing more towards his crotch than his own green eyes. “I'm fucking doing it, isn't it enough?”

Ian let five seconds pass before grinning.

“Nah. Get up, it's squat time.”

Mickey groaned. He looked already at the point of melting on the floor. And they were only half an hour in. That was going to be a long, tiresome morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very big, fat thank you to Elfydwarf for betaing this chapter and giving me a little motivation <3
> 
> Comments, reviews, lots and lots of kudos... Always deeply appreciated. 
> 
> Want to chat? Want to vent about season666? My tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	4. The pain

TA-TA-TAAAAAAAAAA- TA-TA-TAAAAAANNN!

Mickey was dressed in grey sweats with a hoodie on over his sweater. He was running, climbing fast on the steps. How long had he been running? Fuck, hours he'd say. He was sweating and he felt fucking good, like a God. He stopped and drank his water, guzzling it in his thirst.

"Hey fatso, already tired? It's not even been five minutes, man!"

Mickey turned his head, but he saw no one.

"Yeah, you, fatass, you fucking suck! C'mon, do the jumping jacks! I can do one hundred series of one thousand and you can't jump twenty times?!"

This time Mickey saw the owner of the voice. A giant redhead demon was approaching, every step he made closer had Mickey shivering with unease.

"Do your one million squats! Why can't you do them? Because you got such a flaccid ass? Make a damn effort, you dirty thug!"

Mickey tried to perform a squat, but his thighs were burning and he was feeling pain all over his body. Even his fingers were aching.

"I can't!" he cried "Just leave me alone!"

The redheaded demon laughed, the noise echoing through the air.

"Ahah! You would like that, wouldn't ya? But I'm not going anywhere, so do it, or they're gonna sue you!

"NO!"

"And you'll pay the fee!"

"NOOO....

  
  


OOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Mickey opened his eyes, woken up by his own screaming.

It had been a dream. Just a fucking, fucked up dream.

"Ouch..."

The aching reminded him that it wasn't just a dream. Maybe Ian was not a giant demon and no Rocky soundtrack was playing in the room, but Mickey had really suffered hell the day before at the gym. He had thought he was going to die if he had had to do another fucking squat. What was the point of that exercise, anyway? Toning up the ass was for girls. And faggots.

"…" Mickey stalled for about a second. He put a hand on one of his asscheeks. Fuck, even his ass hurt. And yet, what if he ended up with a glorious butt? Not that he cared, of course.

Ian had a really nice butt. Tight, and it was probably taut to touch. No wonder, really, the redhead could lift heavy weights like they were nothing, not even breaking a bead of sweat. Mickey, on the other hand, had discovered that he had no more strength in his arms. He had always been so proud of his biceps. In Juvie, he's spent his time lifting and doing pull-ups. He used to be badass.

He had really let himself go. Not that it mattered much, but Mickey would've loved to wipe that grin from Ian's smug face. His trainer looked at him like Mickey was below him or something.

Well, certainly the redhead was definitely more athletic, but being athletic was his fucking job, so whatever. Yet Ian possessed this fucking perfect body. It was muscular, but not exaggerated. It was a right kind of muscular. With bulging biceps, sculpted legs and that defined six pack...

Mickey had tried to forget, he really had. But the memory of his personal trainer on the bench, showing him how to lift properly... Fuck, that had been a view. That powerful chest was to die for and the shirt had traveled up with his movements, letting Mickey see the ginger happy trail starting from his navel to...

Mickey swallowed; he rolled in bed so he was laying on one side. He couldn’t not think about the sweats Ian had been wearing, hanging so low Mickey's fingers itched to pull even lower. That fucking happy trail, glistening in sweat. Mickey licked his lips, his hand already moving to the nearby bedside table. He rummaged through the mess in it and retrieved a bottle of lube, already partially used. His eyes were still closed, the picture of that gap between Ian's shirt and sweats burning in his mind. Mickey wondered what it would feel like, to let his hands roam from the redhead's pecs to his washboard abs, to that streak of hair that led to what Mickey could only imagine as a huge, delicious dick. The sweats had been large, but Mickey had had Ian's crotch practically shoved in his face on more than one occasion throughout several exercises. That thing the redhead had hidden in his underwear had to be impressive. Or maybe it was only Mickey's horny mind making him think that way. The same mind that had his hand on his swelling dick, fantasizing about the size of another man's.

Mhh... Mickey wanted to lick there. 'There' meaning everywhere. He wanted to move his tongue on Ian's hard planes, licking the sweat away, tasting Ian in his mouth. His hand kept moving at a harder rhythm. Those powerful arms... They were freckled and looked so strong. How would they feel wrapped around him? Holding him so tight? Mickey wanted to choke in that hold, feeling Ian's large hands on his ass, gripping it with force. He wanted to be lifted up and manhandled.

He desired to feel all those things and his own mind and hand could only give him a small taste of it. But fuck if it didn't feel good. Oh, so good...

Mickey reached his climax, thinking about toned arms spreading his own legs, and shot his load both in his hand and on the sheets. His breath gradually became steadier and Mickey started to think more with more lucidity.

He stared at his hand, covered in cum.

What the fuck had he just done?

He quickly wiped his hand using the bed sheets, but such a simple gesture could not erase what he had just done. He had fucking rubbed one off to that fucking prick. And yes, maybe that prick was this hottie with a sculpted body, but he was still someone Mickey despised. Ew, the more he thought about Ian Gallagher, the more...

His dick twitched and Mickey cursed under his breath. Nope, the man was premium spunk bank material, alright. He was just a pain in the ass (and not in a good way) every time Mickey saw him. He knew Gallagher was coming the day after and he was already dreading that moment. He didn't have the strength. Literally. His body felt both stiff and jelly-like and it was a horrible combination.

Mickey climbed out of the bed and discovered how hard it was to stand up and walk. He wasn't able to stretch his legs without feeling an excruciating pain and his muscles felt swollen and as if someone had hit them one hundred times with a hammer.

Basically, Mickey felt like shit.

"Ow..." He put a hand on his lower back, walking slowly to the bathroom like an old man.

And he was supposed to get on a treadmill or something the next day? No fucking way. He had signed a contract, true, but that was against the Geneva Convention, what the fuck. There had to be some small clause about torture at the gym.

Fuck, even peeing was painful and he certainly hadn't done any lifting with his fucking dick. He was really falling to pieces.

He had already taken a shower the day before since he had been a sweaty mess and he had welcomed the hot water pressure. But sure as fuck he wasn't going to stand up in the shower while aching all over.

Mickey decided instead to spend his day in front of the television. He only wanted to eat greasy, cheesy, oily stuff and chill on the couch. To completely forget about Ian Gallagher and the program or whatever, that was his goal for the day.

  
  


***

  
  


Late in the afternoon, his lovely sister decided to pass by. Mainly because she was a fucking busybody and she physically couldn't keep from sticking her nose in this new business of his.

She knocked once, twice, then in rapid-fire, broken with an intermezzo of ringing.

"C'mon you dickhead!" she shouted.

Mickey had to stand up and go open the door, for his ears sake if not for his neighbors. Yet his legs fucking hurt and he lacked the strength to even flip her off, all of it gone.

"What the fuck, bitch. Chill." He could only talk. And rightly look pissed at his annoying sister.

Mandy didn't wait for him to invite her in. She just barged inside the apartment as if she owned the place. She stopped dead in her tracks and sniffed the air.

"You didn't let Ian inside this pigsty, I hope," she said with a disgusted expression on her face. "I mean, I hoped you'd have cleaned your place for him."

Mickey scoffed. "Why?"

His sister huffed, raising her hands up in an exasperated gesture. "Why? Because... didn't you feel ashamed to let him see this smelly mess? It's disgusting, Mick!"

Her brother only shrugged. "That's my smelly mess. If you wanted your ginger fucker to find the place spotless you should have have come here and clean up yourself."

"Over my fucking dead body! I don't want to contract something... I should probably get tested every time I come to see you. "

"You know, nobody is forcing you to come."

"But if I don't, who's gonna?"

Mickey scoffed. "No one and that's how I like it."

"Is it?" Mandy replied. "Is it really, Mick?"

_ No. _ "Yes," Mickey replied and went to slouch on the couch again. Maybe it wasn't exactly how he liked it, but that was as good as it was gonna get and Mickey had made peace with it years ago.

Mandy looked at him with raised eyebrows. Mickey was not the only one in the family able to convey their feelings with a simple eyebrows movement. Mandy might not be at his level of expressiveness, but she clearly stated that she wasn't buying his bullshit.

"Whatever," she said anyway. She went to the fridge to get herself her usual beer.

"Yeah sure, just help yourself," Mickey said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Thanks, bro," Mandy replied nonplussed. She grabbed two beers. "You know, you should start buying some groceries or something. I mean, real food, like, healthy stuff? Vegetables and – don't make that face, Mick, they're good- or... uh, whatever the fuck, as long as it's healthy food, yeah? You know what I mean.

Mickey snorted and snatched one beer from his sister. She was still thin and all, but she had never been a healthy diet kind of girl. She was a burgers and fries kind of gal. "Like you would know."

They sat on the couch and Mandy lost no time putting her feet on his lap, sipping her beer.

"I'm not the fatass here."

"Not that fat."

"You're not obese but you look pregnant."

"Fuck you!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know I'm right."

Mickey rolled his eyes, deciding to let the subject drop. Mostly because he wanted to get back to watching his tv show.

His sister noticed his lack of attention and kept silent for a while, limiting to only steal his doritos from time to time. After the show ended, though, Mickey started to feel a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"What," he snapped.

Mandy grinned. "So, Mick, my dear brother, you've said nothing. How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Mickey said. He knew what she was getting at. He had kind of expected a visit from his sister that day. She was a creature incapable of minding her own business. -

"Oh, c'mon! You know what! Ian! Ian Gallagher! He came here, yeah? I noticed your walk. It looks like you got run over."

Mickey leaned against the back of the couch and nodded. "Yeah, I'm aching all over and even standing to pee hurts, so thank you for forcing me to do this fucking program, sis."

"You're welcome! You already seem slimmer."

Mickey flipped her off, causing her to cackle.

"No, really. A part from your pain, how did it go? With Ian."

Mickey shook his head. "You're really into this guy, huh?"

"He's pretty cute."

"How the fuck should I know. Not a girl, am I," Mickey replied. Fast, too fast. But Mandy thought she knew her brother's preferences and she didn't notice. She had never noticed.

"Yeah, you're all masculine and shit, dickface," she snarked. "But let's be real. He's hot. Dark red hair and that fucking body! I mean, I'd gladly lick his sculpted abs if I could."

Mickey sputtered his beer. He couldn't exactly tell his sister he had thought the same thing when he was jerking off to the redhead a few hours before. Still, the picture of Ian's torso was imprinted in his memory. That fucking trail of red hair. Going down and down and...

The dark haired man noisily cleared his throat. "You're a skank. That guy may be as hot as you say, but he's a fucking prick, all full of himself. I can't fucking stand him."

Mandy sighed and, to his surprise, nodded. "Yeah, I know. He seems kinda snobbish. Maybe he doesn't like us Southsiders," she agreed with her brother. "But it doesn't mean that he's not a good trainer. So, is he?"

Mickey huffed. "He's a sadist, that's what he is."

  
  


_ Once they finished the warming up session, Mickey thought that he was going to rock the lifting session. He was used -well, had been used- to lifting stuff and shit. True, he might not be his twenty year old self anymore, but he doubted it was going to be that hard. Certainly better than the fucking warming up. _

_ Yeah, right. _

_ Mickey was only at the tenth minute of the session when he thought that his twenty year old self had been a crazy motherfucker. Those weights... weighed, goddammit! _

_ Ian made it look so simple. Mickey watched the redhead using one of the machines. He'd push his arms in front of him and then back at his sides. And so on, and so on... His biceps were bulging under the effort. Were those triceps? Huh, the fuck did Mickey know, but those freckly pale arms sure were muscular. The instructor wasn't even sweating yet, whereas Mickey was drowning in his own tank top. Fuck, he could squeeze the clothing and fill a bucket. It was soaked in sweat. Mickey had almost been tempted to take his top off but he was the only one with a belly in that fucking room and he felt oversensitive. Who could totally take off his shirt? Ian. Not that Mickey was salivating at just the thought of a shirtless redhead. Nope. _

_ "Okay, Mickey. Now. Wanna do some pull-ups?" _

_ Mickey only stared at Ian, raising his eyebrows. No, of course he didn't want to. In the past, pull-ups had been his favorite exercise, now he was dreading it. Couldn't that ginger fuck tell that he was slowly dying? All his poor strength was abandoning him. He only wanted a fucking hot shower and his fucking bed. He had thought that after the hell that had been the warm up, the lifting session was going to be a piece of cake, but... _

_ Ian nodded. "Yeah, I know. They're hard, but I'll show you how to lift yourself correctly, okay?" _

_ The dark haired man shrugged. Everything to buy himself some time. "Whatever." _

_ The fitness instructor smiled and in a few seconds he was already doing the first pull-up. _

_ One, two, three, four... _

_ Fuck, was he like the embodiment of perfection or what? Mickey stared at his body going up and down, the sweatpants hanging so low it had to be illegal and that fucking crotch... In that part of his mind that was never too tired to think about sex (very gay sex), Mickey could let himself imagine positioning himself in front of the redhead and pulling down the sweats and when Ian was going to do the next pull up... _

_ "Mickey, your turn," Ian said, leaving the bar and walking towards the black haired man. Same man who had to think about his old dead grandma with long, wrinkly tits, to bid his half chub to soften. He only wanted to go home and, while yeah, Ian was hot as fuck, he apparently was also blind because couldn’t he see that Mickey was at his limit? _

_ Mickey looked at the bar, then at the obnoxious fucker. _

_ “ What if I don’t want to?” _

_ Ian shook his head. “You gotta.” _

_ Mickey rolled his eyes. _

_ He could feel his legs shaking, a reason why he was leaning against a wall, and he was at that point of tiredness where tears were pricking his eyes. But he was a fucking Milkovich, and there was no way in hell he was going to cry like a pussy. He could do the pull-ups, alright. _

_ He walked with unsteady steps until he found himself under the bar. He looked up. Back then it had always been so easy... Now Mickey looked down at his belly and his arms, no longer toned, and sighed. With a small jump he got his hands attached to the bar and pulled up. _

_ Mickey actually managed to do a pair. Maybe without the grace with which Ian had performed before, but still, he did it. At the third pull-up, things became a little more difficult. Well, incredibly difficult. He had put all of his strength in at the beginning and he was now spent. At the fifth pull-up, he actually let go and fell down onto his ass, causing all the gym clients to turn their heads to watch him. _

_ "What the fuck are you looking at!?" Mickey barked at them and even if weakened by his loudly panting, his voice still managed to sound menacing enough for the other people to stop looking at him. _

_ And... _

_ Was that a fucking smirk on his own fucking personal trainer? _

_ Ian looked half embarrassed, half on the brink of laughing his ass off. What the fuck! _

_ He smiled at Mickey, that kind of smile reserved for a stupid kid that had fallen in a puddle of mud. "C'mon, Mickey. Get up. You still have to do another series" _

_ Mickey looked at him in disbelief. "You serious?" _

_ "You have at least to try. You can't just let go." _

_ "Watch me." Mickey didn't even get up. It seemed an act of defiance, but he was really tired. He didn't even know if he was able to stand up again in the near future. And this fucker wanted him to do another set of pull-ups? It was true then, ginger had no fucking soul. _

_ "Oh, c'mon, you can do it..." Ian leaned down to grab at Mickey's arms and help him get up. _

_ "What did I say!" Mickey shouted and swatted his freckly hands away. _

_ "But Mick-" _

_ "And don't fucking call me Mick, you fuckhead! We're not fucking friends and I'm done with all your c'mons and I'm done with this shit!" _

_ By some miracle Mickey did manage to stand up. It appeared that his legs wanted to get the hell out of that gym too. He also found that he had enough strength in his fingers to give Ian both of his middle ones. _

  
  


"And you left?! Oh Mick..." Mandy sighed. "Why do you always have to pull this shit."

Mickey shrugged. He had left way before the stretching part and his body was now affected by his unwise decision. "What was I supposed to do? Work myself out until all of my limbs gave up? No thank you. I still have some dignity left," he said while adjusting his junk in his sweats. Mandy didn't comment on that.

"Mickey, I'm sure it was hard. I feel you. But all of this- this program... even Ian. They're good for you. I didn't sign you up for this because I wanted to have a good laugh at ya. The fact that you spent a half day not in here or dealing is already a fucking wonder. I want you to be happy," Mickey snorted, but he knew his sister meant it. She had that serious look in her eyes that he well knew. "And... I don't know if this program is the answer to it, but it can help, at least. I want you to feel good about your body, about yourself. And I know you gotta work for it and I trust you that Ian is a sadistic prick, but if he can help you achieve some results... Isn't it good?"

Mickey was shaking his head, even if deep down he wanted to agree with his sister. He wanted to feel good about himself too. But he knew something his sister didn't: it just wasn't possible.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that: I love comments and reviews
> 
> AAAANNNDDD a big thank you to the lovely Elfy_Dwarf
> 
> AAAAANNNNDDDD my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com)


	5. The diet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey needs to eat healthy and be polite.  
> Yeah, right.

The following two weeks consisted of pure healthy-and-fit hell. When Gallagher showed at Mickey's doorstep for the second time, Mickey was tempted to barricade the door and not let the fucker in. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't lock himself inside when there was no food in the house, so he kind of had to open the door and let Ian inside.

"I brought you some food," Ian greeted him. The poor man erroneously thought Gallagher meant _his_ kind of food. What a nice surprise it was when he discovered that the nourishment he got was healthy food. The cameraman, who was alone this time, pointed the camera to his greatly disappointed face at seeing broccoli and chicken (not fried, not dipped in some spicy sauce... raw fucking chicken to boil) and... was that a fruit or a veggie?

"Am I supposed to eat this stuff?" Mickey asked with a grimace.

Ian nodded, "Yeah, and prepare it too. You know, use the burners and whatnot."

Mickey looked at Ian in disbelief. Not only was the man behaving as if Mickey had _not_ flipped him off and left mid-session at the gym the other day, but he seemed to be under the impression that Mickey was actually going to cook and eat that stuff. The dark haired man had a steady 10 percent vegetable intake in his diet and it usually came from bamboo and mushrooms in his Chinese noodles, the small pieces he couldn't manage to leave in the white box.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Mickey, very politely, asked.

Ian finished taking all of the groceries out of the bag, "Food, I believe."

"For you, maybe,” the shorter man grabbed a purple vegetable. An eggplant. He was pretty sure the last time he had seen one of these in its entirety, it was being used in a kinky porno. "I'm not gonna eat this. Purple’s not a color for vegetables. It’s fucking fake. I trust no veggies with that color." Yeah, he had a trust issue with colors and vegetables, so what?

Ian chuckled. "Well then I'm sure you'll trust the cucumber here then." The redhead held a big ass cucumber. Mickey was positive he had seen that vegetable in the same eggplant porno. His eyes could not help but wander to Ian's crotch, snapping them back up immediately. Ian didn’t seem to notice.

"And I didn't bring only vegetables. I brought meat too. You like steak, right?" He unwrapped a bloody, thick steak. That looked tasty.

"Sure. Already cooked though," Mickey replied.

Ian shook his head, amused. "Then you'll have to cook it."

Before Mickey could reply with his finger, Ian had already turned to the fridge and opened it. He heard the redhead sigh at the view.

"What have we got here..."Ian started taking out stuff from the fridge. "Thai leftovers... Pizza leftovers... And what is _this_? Ew, fried chicken? Whatever. Chinese leftovers...Oh, beer. Beer... Beer..."

Ian listed everything as he grabbed it, shoving the smelly items in the empty grocery bags.

"Hey! What the fuck, man?!" Mickey exclaimed. "That's mine!"

Ian looked at him, unimpressed. "Yeah and it's bad for your body. I can let you keep a beer or two, but all the other stuff has to go."

" _You_ have to go!"

Ian shrugged. "Yeah, not going anywhere. We're stuck together for ten months. Nice job signing the contract."

Mickey heard Alec snicker at the same time Ian smirked. The thug turned his attention at the cameraman. "And _you_ , what the fuck're you laughing at?!"

The man only raised a hand in surrender, but didn't stop filming. Mickey wanted both men out of his house with their fucking groceries.

In the meantime Ian had started stocking the hated food in the fridge.

"Listen, man." Mickey sighed. Maybe he should use a more diplomatic approach. "I'm not going to eat the stuff, let alone cook it. So you can just grab your shit and leave my fridge alone."

"Mh?" Ian was bent over, putting a bag of carrots in one of the bottom drawers. Mickey tilted his head to glance at the man's ass. Now _that_ looked delicious, not those perverted shaped vegetables. He diverted his attention when Ian looked at his direction. "Mickey, believe me. This 'shit' is good for you, you'll see. You can't come exercising with me and then going back home and eat deep fried pizza. You know, kind of defeats the objective goal?"

Oh, Mickey did know. It was actually his plan to order greasy food that night.

"Whatever. Ain't got no wife to make me your fucking food and I'm not gonna put a frilly fucking apron and start cooking."

At his words Ian chuckled. "A wife? Right."

"Huh?"

"I mean. C'mon, man you-" The redhead paused himself and shrugged, noticing Mickey's defensive posture. "Nothing."

"What? What's so funny?" Mickey puffed up his chest, trying to look menacing. Ian might be taller and buffer, but Mickey could still throw a dirty punch when he was hearing alarm bells ringing. And Ian laughing about him having a hypothetical wife was definitely a cacophonous sound.

It seemed the redhead didn't want to start a fight, though, because Ian turned his back and got back to his evil restocking.

"I'm almost finished, Mickey. You should be putting something on, we're going to the gym in five."

Mickey sighed in relief and noticed only in that moment that he had been holding in a breath, that his fists had been clenched tight. Fuck this, he'd been ready to spark the lanky fucker out!

His posture relaxed and he groaned.

"I'm still aching all over."

"I'm sure you are," said the trainer with a fucking bottle of -Was that water? Seriously?- in his hand. "It means you used your muscles right. That's good. Now go and change. Maybe the next time I see you I'll bring a cook book **?** "

Mickey gave him two high raised eyebrows. Was that man really thinking he was going to cook that food?

 

***

 

Mickey hated the North Side. The place was only good for business. And by business he meant dealing. And by dealing he meant selling drugs to the young fuckers who did drugs as rebellion against their rich parents.

That was why he had to inhale and exhale thrice before finally deciding to bite it and he opened the door to the coffee shop where he was supposed to meet Jasmine's assistant. Ernie, Freddie... Something like that.

The place was so not like the bars and pubs he was use to frequenting. The ‘Cream & Sugar' was sparkly clean with smiley cashiers and new age music or some shit playing all around. The happy, preppy environment was already giving him nausea.

Mickey looked around to see if the guy he had to meet was already there and he noticed a ginger waving at him.

"Hey! Mickey, over here!"

Mickey nodded and moved towards him, sitting opposite at the table.

"Freddie," he said as a greeting.

The man chuckled. "Eddie."

"Yeah, whatever." Mickey shrugged and took off his coat. He was wearing a sweatshirt that did nothing to conceal the protrusion of his belly and worn out jeans with stains on them. As usual. "So, we doing this interview or what?"

Eddie nodded. "Yeah, but first do you want coffee or something? Their cakes are good too."

Mickey looked at the man in front of him. He, himself, felt like a fish out of water, but Eddie seemed nervous. Mickey probably scared him or maybe it was his first time conducting an interview on his own. Mickey decided to let him breath **e** a little.

"Sure."

Eddie rewarded him with a warm smile and Mickey noticed his perfectly white teeth and the freckles scattered along his nose and cheeks. They were more accentuated than Gallagher's. His hair was more orange than that deep auburn red Gallagher fiercely sported.

Fuck, what was with him thinking about his fucking sadist of a personal trainer now?

The assistant waved to one of the waiters, a man with a perfectly trimmed beard and a silver bead hanging in it. Yes, a fucking bead. Was it his own version of a Christmas tree? It was January already, wake the fuck up, goddamn hipster!

"Hi guys, having a nice day? I'm Ravi, what can I get you?" The waiter was all smiles and Mickey wanted to knock his shiny teeth out.

Eddie ordered a cappuccino double caramel, obtaining a disgusted expression on Mickey's face. The thug ordered an espresso instead, but to not get too low on his daily sugars he also got a chocolate cake, because why not? It was on the magazine’s tab.

"Coming right up," Ravi said, writing down the orders. He pointed the pen at Mickey's knuckles. "Cool tats, bro."

Mickey must have given him a typical scary southside death glare, because the waiter widened his eyes and scrambled off. Mickey only shook his head.

"You don't like it here?" Eddie asked.

"Not my usual place," Mickey shrugged.

"Well, if you want we can go to one of your places next time," the ginger proposed, as candid as a snowflake.

Mickey scoffed. A guy like Eddie at some pub like the Alibi? He was fucking dead meat, they would eat him alive. Plus Mickey didn't want people to see him in his company. Or knowing anything about him doing this fucking program. "Nah, it's okay. The interview won't take long anyway, right?"

Eddie bit his bottom lip. "Yeah... Just need to ask you a few questions. It's only been two weeks since you started, so it's mostly about general stuff, like your impressions."

The waiter came back with their orders and ran away from Mickey as soon as possible. The hard edged thug sipped at his espresso and grimaced. Fuck, it was so bitter. He looked at Eddie who happily drank from his sugary beverage and wished he hadn’t tried to appear so manly. He decided to pour two or three or four spoons of sugar in his small cup. And devour the chocolate cake. Mickey closed his eyes after tasting the first bite. Mhh… heaven on his tongue. Maybe he should get another slice…

“That good?” Asked Eddie, his eyes fixed on him. Fuck, did he have a blissful face on him or what?

“Not bad.” Mickey shrugged. “So, what’s the first question?”

“Right,” Eddie nodded and got out pencil, notebook and pressed play on the recorder on his phone. “Okay. First. How are you liking it so far?"

Mickey snorted. "Really? That's kind of a stupid question. You go to fucking college to learn how to ask this shit?"

Eddie looked mortified. "Huh... No... I mean, I wanted to ease you into the interview... And I told you it's really just first impressions cause-"

"I'm fucking with ya."

"Huh?" The guy frowned.

Mickey shrugged. "Nah, you're just easy to fuck with. So, how I'm liking it so far..."

The thug thought about it a little, while chomping at his chocolate cake. At the moment, the only thing he could think about was the fucking redhead trainer. Of course he could’ve thought about the five minutes he had spent in front of the mirror, putting on his jeans. He hadn’t exactly liked what he saw, but his jeans fitted better than usual. Only two weeks and he could see already the results. And yet-

"Gallagher is a sadistic fucker."

"Really?" Eddie seemed surprised. "Usually people are very enthusiastic about him."

"Who's enthusiastic? The old hag of the other edition? I looked her up, she probably thought of Gallagher as eye-candy. I tell you, he's awful. He fucking- he basically fucking holds me captive in that fucking gym! He bought me a bunch of strange food that's rotting in my fridge and he's all smirking and full of himself. What the fuck!"

"Oh." Eddie wrote something on his notebook and Mickey found he shocked at himself for his sudden outburst. He had to bark some cursing at the people seated next to them to make them turn their heads the other way.

"Yeah..." Mickey cleared his throat. "I don't like the guy."

"I got that," Eddie smiled. "But from what you're telling me, it seems Ian is only doing his job. His scope is to make you fit and healthy. Maybe you just started off on the wrong foot?"

Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Not my fault if he thinks South Side is trash."

"Excuse me?"

"He looks at me, up and down, like I'm trash or something. I want to punch that smug face of his."

Eddie frowned. "Maybe I should talk to Ian about it. It's important that there's harmony-"

"Yeah. No," Mickey interrupted. "I'm not crying to mommy cause the kid at school is mean. I'm a man, I can handle it."

From the worried look on Eddie's face, the man seemed to fear how Mickey could handle it. His tattoos with FUCK U-UP inked on his knuckles certainly didn't help him think Mickey could use a gentle tactic.

“Still, it’s weird. Ian is from the South Side too, he even comes from your neighborhood, I think,” Eddie mumbled, lost in his thoughts. “That's why I don't think he's looking down on you. I actually thought you'd become friends in no time.”

“Friends, right.” Mickey scoffed. “So you mean that if two people are from South Side, they gotta be pals or some shit? Hmm?”

Mickey assumed a menacing tone and Eddie registered it immediately.

“W-what? No! Of course not. I don't mean any disrespect, I swear! Y-you have to believe me!”

Eddie even started to stutter on his words. Until he noticed Mickey's smirk.

“You're kidding me again, aren't you?” He realized.

Mickey shrugged. “Maybe.”

Fuck, it was so easy to get this guy flustered in no time. A piece of cake, really. Right, about that. Should he get this other slice of the chocolate cake? But was it necessary ? He had kind of enjoyed feeling his shirt not so tight at his sides.  Yeah, well fuck it. Gallagher’s preaching would not get to him. Still… his snobbish instructor was South Side? The redhead fucker didn't look like it. And yet. Now that he knew… there was a certain vibe to the man. Gallagher had never once seemed scared of him. Mickey had thought that after having seen his fat ass doing jumping jacks nobody would feel scared of him. So there was something more. And it was even worse, because Ian was not a North Side prick. He was a fucking traitor. Was he ashamed of his white trash roots?

"Uhm." Eddie decided to change the topic. "You should meet with Scott soon, right?"

Mickey thought of Scott. Scott...

"Oh, the old queen?"

Eddie, who was sipping his cappuccino, choked and coughed, red faced and all. "Mickey, I don't think you should say that..."

"He's more than fifty and he's a queen," Mickey repeated, even nodding to himself.

"Please. Scott is a really nice person, I'm sure he'll be able to help with... huh... some aspects of your personality."

Mickey crossed his arms, his eyebrows lifted in a challenge.

"Like what?"

 

***

 

"Cursing! You can't use cursing like you would use a comma, Mickey!"

Scott was clearly exasperated with his not-so-young-anymore pupil. He couldn’t understand how the hell- heck… - pardon, he couldn’t understand how it was possible for a man so short, with such big, baby blue eyes, to possess  a mouth so filthy. And the posture! He was a weird mix between a rhino and a sloth, moving as if he was bulkier than he really was, but also ready to slouch to the couch any minute. Scott had found a peculiar specimen.

The older man put a rebel strand of hair behind his ear, a gesture Mickey found so feminine it was annoying the hell out of him. The man was old, fat and with fucking long hair! What the fuck, right?

It was unnatural for a dude.

Mickey was in Scott's studio as he sat deep in the armchair. The two men had already spent quite the delightful half hour together and Mickey was starting to burst from the inside out. The man had made tea! _Fucking tea_! Like, with pastries and biscuits and cream and whatever! The south side thug that resided in him wanted to puke at the sight. The first thing he had said to his teacher had been:

"The fuck is this shit?"

And he had watched the disappointed look on Scott's face as he deflated in front of him.

From then on it had been a disaster. The two couldn't be more dissimilar if they had tried. Where Mickey was harsh, Scott was a softy. Truth to be told, Scott was an educated and blatant homo and Mickey was uncomfortable in his presence. Something in him deeply irritated the closeted thug. Maybe it was his confidence with things that Mickey couldn't even think about without opening a bottle of whiskey. Maybe Scott was simply ‘too much’ for Mickey's taste. Mickey's hands itched to ruin his expensive suite, tear his ridiculous purple silk handkerchief from his front pocket.

And not because he wanted to see Scott naked. The older man weighed more than he did. He was not a sight for sore eyes for sure. If Mickey had to choose between evils, Gallagher with his very lickable abs…

No, wait. He didn't have to fucking choose. He didn't need and didn't want to. He had made up his mind a long time ago and yet sometimes his damn fucking brain slipped up.

“Well if you don’t want to hear me cursing, just fucking let me go, it ain’t that difficult.”

“Isn’t.”

“What?” Mickey arched an eyebrow. Scott started to fiddle with his fingers.

“You used ‘it ain’t that difficult’. You should use ‘isn’t’.”

Mickey only flipped him off. Correct his middle finger grammar, Scotty.

Scott puffed adorably at the bird. “Grammar is important, my dear.”

“I _ain’t_ your _fucking_ dear,” Mickey replied, deliberately putting some weight on both his bad grammar and the cursing.

His teacher, or whatever he was supposed to be, fetched his tablet, where he must have had put some bullet points for the session. Mickey thought if it would be seen as a bad gesture to steal the tablet from the man who was paid to teach him how to become a model fucking citizen.

“So,” Scott cleared his voice. “I’m aware that you are not in possession of a high school diploma. Correct?”

Mickey nodded, a wicked smile schooling on his lips. “Too busy stealing lunch money from little faggots like you.”

Scott remain unperturbed. He had probably expected such response. “So you can see why I’m worried here. With no diploma it is hard to find a good job-”

“Whoa! Who said anything about getting a job?” Mickey had thought that sessions with Scott were going to be only the older man talking in his feminine way and Mickey minding his own business. Nobody said anything about working.

“Well, it goes without saying that having a job would be good for you. It puts food on the table and it makes one feel accomplished. To give their little contribution to the world every day.”

“Like you do, just talking nonsense?” Mickey scoffed.

“I believe I’m doing my part. And that you should be doing so too. Plus, everybody needs money.”

“But I got money-”

“So we need to make you ready to go through a job interview,” Scott said without hearing what Mickey said. Which was a good thing, since the money Mickey was talking about derived from him dealing drugs. “For example. What would you say to the interviewer if they ask you what you did for a living?”

Mickey thought about it for a few moments. Before dealing, what had been his occupation?

“I used to run a business,” the thug said. That got Scott’s attention.

“Oh, good. You were an entrepreneur! What sector?”

“Huh, hospitality.” Did Scott really want to know?

“Nice, what realm?”

“I was a pimp.”

The shocked look on Scott’s face was worthy of a photograph. Instead of feeling ashamed, Mickey smirked, appearing overly smug about it.

“Oh. A… Well, I guess it means you have, huh, initiative. You certainly are a resourceful person and… Yes, good in management.”

“I guess so,” Mickey replied, now being cockier than before. Making the others feeling flustered made him feel better. He was even able to smile. A sickly, evil smile, but always better than nothing, right? “But anyway. I don’t need _no_ job. I got a part-time job as a mechanic at a garage. So I put food on my table and I give my fucking contribution to the world, even if I _was_ more of a philanthropist when I ran a rub’n’tug. You should’ve seen the satisfied looks on the clients face after a good cock rub from my girls.”

Scott flushed red and Mickey could finally relax. He wasn’t really working as a mechanic, but he knew a place where one of the co-owners owed him. He could get the job as a cover pretty easily.

He sat pretty in  the stuffy armchair, watching the chubster titter and fidget with obvious discomfort over Mickey's verbal harassment of his ears, and he found his mouth curling in a grin that matched his renewed devilish mood while he scoured his brain for more tidbits and stories that would have this motherfucker recoiling in his seat. The more Scott fussed, the more Mickey grinned and the thug found himself comfortable enough to endure his another hour and forty-five minutes of session. Making the pig squirm was a diversion like any other.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my tumblr [all15knuckles-of-jainsel](http://all15knuckles-of-jainsel.tumblr.com) and if you leave comments and kudos I'm not going to bite ya!
> 
> Also, thank you my sweet darling ElfyDwarf for betaing <3


	6. The heart-to-heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a verbal and physical fight.  
> And there's peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I think we're like at half of the story?  
> Now I'm taking a little time to write one or two prompts and a one chapter that has for main relationship NOT Gallavich (no, it's not a Caleb/Ian, of course). Always a M/M, a Shameless character with an OC. Whoever guesses the Shameless character protagonist of the story will earn 100 points for Gryffindor lol

Mickey was at his wits end. Another six weeks had passed and he was _this close_ to finally carrying out his murder plan. He had already thought, many times, of telling his brothers that Ian was a child molester so they'd put a bullet in his head, then ditch his freckled body somewhere isolated. Probably still in the South Side, just to let him rot in the part of town the redhead seemed to abhor so much. Even that Scott faggot and Eddie were better than Gallagher. They still seemed to fear Mickey to some extent. His fitness instructor continued to look at him as if he were scum instead.

He wasn't even that wrong. Mickey had let the groceries in the fridge to rot until Ian had started complaining about the smell (well, the new smell, anyway) and had discovered the graveyard that was hidden inside the fridge. Ian had had the courage to yell at him, but Mickey had played deaf. He was still eating and drinking whatever the hell he wanted and basically nothing had changed except going regularly to the gym. 'Going' meant Mickey was nowadays dragged to the gym and he was even more unwilling to perform his exercises. He had lost some weight and was slightly more fit, but that was really because Ian was keeping him away from home. Mickey didn't want to get sued or pay the fee or anything, but he wasn't going to break a sweat at the fucking gym.

Was Ian happy about it?

Not really, no.

On his part, Ian couldn't possibly understand why someone could be so unwilling to want to get better. Especially when they had someone like him to help. Back in the day, Ian would've loved to have had a personal instructor to run his miles with. Instead, Mickey would simply accompany him to the gym and stay seated on a weight bench, only raising him the finger from time to time. Ian had almost lost all his will to spur Mickey to fucking do something. He'd watch the fatass picking at his dirty nails while he was in the middle of demonstrating the right way to perform specific sit ups. Fuck, what was he supposed to do? Ian was getting paid to get this man in shape and instead Mickey was still the same as two months before. Ian was pretty sure some of the wife beaters Mickey wore had never been washed. Not once.

The man was a riddle for Ian. Just, he wasn't that sure he wanted to uncover the mystery. He had his doubts that Mickey was worth the effort. He seemed so set about doing everything _not_ to improve. But then what? People expected him to be kind of a life coach to Mickey but Mickey seemed perfectly fine in his own skin, in his own filth. Just fine.

And yet.

There was something off in that man. Something behind all the snark and his sarcasm and his total lack of wanting to be a good person. It was just there for Ian to notice. And Ian _had_ noticed something, alright. Mickey's eyes. More than once he had seen those blue eyes linger longer than normal on Ian's body, hungry eyes that could belong only to a deeply closeted man. Ian would recognize that gaze anywhere. He had seen plenty in his thirty years of life. He and Mickey had never talked once about their sexual preferences. Hell, they had never really talked at all. Yet Ian was sure Mickey was repressed, frustrated and he showed it by looking at Ian as if he wanted to drop on his knees and suck his dick while flipping him off at the same time, grumbling some harsh words. Whenever Ian had hinted at Mickey's homosexuality, the man appeared ready to cave his skull in.

Ian sighed. As per usual, Mickey was doing nothing but sit on the bench. The weights were loaded behind him but he had no intention of lifting whatsoever. Really, the only good thing he had done that day without the cameraman’s presence, was bringing his sister along  with him. It was the first time since their meeting at the magazine's studio that Ian had seen her. She was as caked with make-up as the last time even though she was at the gym. Her top was a size or two too small, so as to squeeze her boobs out and the black shorts were _really_ fucking short. She had a nicer body than her brother's though. She was quite fit, she probably attended at some gym.

Ian wasn't the only one noticing her tight outfit because the majority of the men there were salivating over her doing her stretching exercises. And she would perform in almost slutty movements. No, actually remove ‘almost'. She was stretching to catch men's attention. She reminded Ian of the typical South Side girl. Mandy had probably been whoring herself out during her teenage years, always giving the guys what they wanted to feel important and ‘loved'. Ian felt pity for her, especially since she seemed like a nice girl. Really, she was the only Milkovich he could talk to without getting the bird as a response.

“Okay, Ian, what we should do?” asked Mandy as soon as she was done with her stretching. She crossed her arms, squeezing her boobs enough to give her bosom a good show. Sadly, it wasn’t interesting for Ian. The redhead had never blatantly showed his sexual preference out in public but he had never faked being something he wasn’t.

“We? If you convince your brother to move his ass, _we_ can start our warming up,” Ian replied, glancing back at Mickey, who was looking like he was about to take a nap on the bench.

Mandy followed his stare and huffed a breath. “Is he still not cooperating? I was so sure that by now he'd be into it.”

“Yeah, well. You were wrong.” Ian nodded at Mickey. “All he does is nap. Or curse. Fuck, if he knew he was going to be like this, why did he sign for this program? I would've been better off without him and his lazy ass.”

“Hey, that's my brother you're talking about!” she snapped defensively. Then she lowered her eyes. Mickey was looking at them now but he didn't seem ready to get up. Mandy sighed. “I know he's difficult but… he's had it rough, okay? Please don't judge him. Well, him _or_ me, even. I get that we're not the kind of people you're used to, but we're not lesser people, you know?”

Ian looked at her with bewildered eyes. “No, believe me, I don't think-”

“Hey Firecrotch! You done harassing my sister or can we start?” Surprisingly enough, Mickey stepped between Ian and his sister. Was he thinking the redhead was mistreating Mandy?

“Yeah, sure we can. We were just waiting for you," said Ian. "I'm actually shocked to see you ready for today's session."

"Not my fault you suck at being an instructor," Mickey shrugged. Oh my god, he was being a little shit, wasn't he? What, he thought that being with his sister could be an excuse for sass? Ian was the one who allowed Mandy to come-with in first place.

"Well, you suck at being a good student," Ian replied in a totally not-childish manner.

"Yeah, because I don't fucking care," Mickey snapped. "I don't fucking care about this program, I'm here cause my sis here decided it'd be good for me. And guess what? It fucking ain't!"

Mandy opened her mouth to talk, but her brother beat her to it. "Yeah, yeah skank. I'm continuing this shit, I don't wanna get sued or anything." Mickey walked away. "So, we starting or not?"

Ian couldn't believe his ears. He knew that Mickey wasn't taking it seriously, but he didn't like to hear the man talking about his own fucking work as if it were shit. Ian helped people, he helped them becoming a better version of themselves. He loved to believe that.

Ian moved on  autopilot for the first five minutes, moving his arms and legs up and down to start the warming up. But his mind didn't wander that far. He didn't want to have any doubts about his job because of some thug. If the man wasn't doing anything with his life, well fuck him. But he was bothering Ian so much...

"No, you know what, Mick? Fuck you." Ian stopped in the middle of an exercise, capturing the siblings attention. "This maybe a bother to you, but it's my fucking job. You don't wanna do as I say? Get the hell out of here, get sued, I don't care. But if you stay, you gotta work with me. Even your sister thinks this is good for you!"

"Oh no. You don't get to throw my sister in my face. Not when you were looking down on her!" Mickey stopped his exercise too.

"What! When?" Ian exclaimed.

"Just before! And even at the interview." Mickey began to gesticulate, getting closer to Ian. "You look at her like any other Northsiders would! Not that you're _that_ different with me. I know I'm just dirt to you- Oh, what? You think I don’t notice? You've been judging me since day fucking one. I see you turn your nose up looking at me, at my apartment… at the fucking neighborhood! Since you got out, you think you’re better than us? Oh, right. Yeah, I know you’re South Side too. See, Mands? He’s scum just like us, but he think he’s high and mighty now 'cause he got a job downtown! You can clean yourself up as much as you want, you’re fucked up for life too!”

Ian didn’t think. He had to move and do something. That something was shoving Mickey hard with his hands against his chest.

“What _the fuck_ do you know!”

Mickey seemed nonplussed. He actually smirked, as if he was enjoying the conversation. “You’re Ian Gallagher, right? From Canaryville. I know Gallaghers. I beat up your daddy, one of your younger brother is in jail, mh? Wasn’t one of your sister a teen mom?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Make me!” Mickey snarled. “What? You're so ashamed of them that you turn your back on them? There’s no place for your family in your nice North Side house? You’re too perfect now that you got out? Well, guess what? You can’t run from what you are!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Ian couldn’t take Mickey’s accusations any longer. Every word he had spewed was a dagger in his heart. But Mickey didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know what kind of shame Ian felt towards his family. “Guess what? You can't run either! Mr. Hetero Guy, you think I haven't noticed how you look at me? How you stare at every man in here?”

Mickey’s face fell and Ian should've felt guilty, but he couldn't in the heat of the moment. Ian had promised himself he would never use anyone's sexuality against them.  And yet here he was. He knew what being gay meant for someone from the South Side, having been there himself, and he had just thrown something that was clearly Mickey’s hidden secret out into the open.

“What the fuck are you getting at.” Mickey’s tone was menacing, his hands strongly curled into fists. Most people would be scared of him, but not Ian. The redhead was able to smell the fear of God in the thug and that put Ian in an advantageous position. It was too late to take back what he'd said, anyway.

“I'm getting at the fact that you’re gay and you’re not even that good at hiding it. No straight guy stares at my crotch like the Holy Grail. I’m gay too, so I know your eyes, I know that look. And you look like a typical closeted faggot who hasn’t taken a dick in a lo-”

Ian had fast reflexes. He should have, _would have_ been able to duck Mickey’s blow with ease. Maybe he had his guilty conscience to blame, because he stayed still and the fist hit him mercilessly in his face.

The redhead staggered back, bringing a hand to the injured side of his face. His body almost moved to give the blow back, but Mickey’s stopped him in his movements. Not because the shorter man hit him again, or had finally managed to look menacing to him, but because the hardened thug seemed on the verge of crying. His fingers were still curled in fists, but the man was shivering ever so slightly. He was red-faced, biting his bottom lip bloody. And his eyes… They were lucid and conveyed all of the fear, anger, panic. Mickey’s feet didn’t seem to know whether to keep still or not, battling with fight and flight.

“Mick…”

Only in that moment did the two realize that Mandy was still with them. Both men turned their heads to look at the confused looking woman, who had wide eyes focused on her brother.

Mickey opened his mouth to talk, but only a choked sound came out. His feet had finally made their decision: flight. He hastily left the room, going out in the cold Chicago winter with only sweats and tank top on. That was the first time Ian had seen Mickey run.

“Huh…”

Ian turned his attention back to Mandy.

“You… didn’t know?” Had Ian just outed Mickey not only to a load of strangers, but to his sister?

Guilt.

It fucking hit him in the gut.

Mandy shook her head. “No… We- we never talked about it. He only went for fat chicks back in the day, but now… Fuck. Sorry, I need to go change.”

The woman pushed her way back to the ladies locker room, leaving Ian alone. He sat on one of the benches, a hand against his mouth. Fuck, what had he just done?

 

***

 

Ian had to breathe once, twice, thrice, before knocking on Mickey’s front door, resolving to fix what he'd done

No answer.

He tried again and again. That fucker wasn't answering. What the fuck? Was Mickey that much of a coward?

Ian hit the door once again.

“Oh, c'mon, Mickey! I know you're in there! Come out, please?”

After a second, he added “I don’t mean coming out like… you know. Not the gay thing. Like, open the door…”

Ian rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“Listen, man. I really need to talk to you. I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t my place to… Just open the door, will ya?”

Mickey was still not answering. Not even to tell Ian to fuck off.

“Fine! I’m staying here until you decide to come talk to me! Not leaving, I swear!”

Having that said, Ian let himself fall on the floor. Mickey was a coward? Okay, Ian was forcing him to come out with a good ol’ siege. Just outside his apartment. The redhead crossed his arms, leaning his back against the nearby wall.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing?”

The redhead finally heard the voice whose owner was supposed to be _inside_ the apartment. Instead there Mickey was, a paper bag under one arm and an overall surprised, yet angered, expression on his face. He was standing still by the stairs as Ian scrambled to get up. He felt like an idiot now.

“I- huh… I thought you were inside, so I…”

“So what, you wanted to camp in front of my fucking door?”

Mickey didn’t wait for Ian’s stuttering reply. He took his decision and, just like a bull, he walked towards his door, brushing Ian’s shoulder in the movement. It was clear he didn’t want to have a conversation with the redhead. Unfortunately for Mickey, though, he spent too many seconds rummaging into his pocket to find his keys. That left Ian the time to talk again.

“Mickey, I really need to talk to you. I didn’t wanna out you in front of everyone, but it was the heat of the moment and-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mickey snapped. The shorter man finally managed to unlock the door and shoved it open.

“No, you gotta listen-”

“Fuck off!”

Mickey tried to slam the door shut, but Ian blocked him by pushing a hand against it. Mickey was furious.

“I said fuck off! Let go of the fucking door, what the fuck!”

“No!”

“ _Yes_!”

The door was standing still, but while Mickey was pushing himself against it, Ian was merely using one hand to stop it.

“No! Listen-”

“I said no!”

“Please?!”

“NO!”

“I brought beer!”

“... What?”

Taking advantage of that moment of pure confusion in Mickey’s head, Ian finally pushed the door open and went inside.

“Hey!” Mickey woke back up and shoved Ian's chest. “What the fuck d'you think you’re doing?”

“I need to talk to you,” Ian replied, determined. He didn’t flinch at Mickey’s aggression.

“And I don’t want that, case closed.” Mickey sighed.

“Listen…” Ian’s face softened, just a little bit. He could see Mickey’s internal struggle. Yes, he knew he was under contract but no, he doesn’t want to talk to Ian and no, definitely doesn’t want to tackle the gay topic. And yet… Something was stopping the shorter man from unleashing on Ian. Fuck, did some part of Mickey actually want to talk to Ian? “Listen. I’m sorry I said those things… You came on strong too, but it wasn’t my position to, you know... I just really wanna talk. Help out. I guess I look like a prick to you, but I'm not or at least I don’t think I am? Please, if after a little chat you still hate me, and dislike the show or whatever, I won’t bother you any more. Screw the contract. Okay?”

Mickey was biting the corner of his bottom lip. He was thinking about it, at least. Then he nodded.

“Were you lying about bringing beer?”

 

***

 

It so happened that Ian hadn’t been lying about the beer. Well, more or less. The redhead had a six pack (not only as abs) in the trunk of his car. Ian made Mickey promise on his mother’s grave not to lock the door with the redhead gone to get beer and then, since Mickey seemed too fidgety while promising, Ian dragged him along to the car. The two didn’t talk during the time between getting the beer and going back to the apartment. They just walked close to each other in an awkward silence. It was only when they were both seated - Ian on the armchair, Mickey on the couch - that Ian cleared his throat to talk.

“So...” Ian leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, both hands holding a bottle of beer. Now that he was actually face to face with the man, he didn’t know how to even begin. Then he remembered Mickey with a paper bag before. “Huh, you went grocery shopping? Buy something nice?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question, but he took a sip of his beer and decided to go with it anyway. “Was out of Doritos and other shit.”

"Mickey, you know you shouldn't eat that-"

"Ah ah," Mickey stopped the redhead before he could begin his tirade about eating healthy and living a life without sugar and carbs. "Thought you were here to fucking say sorry and then leave."

"Yeah." Right, no talking about diet and exercise. "But I'd like to hear an apology from you too."

Mickey snorted. "What for, you're the one who accused me of... some shit."

Seriously?

"You accused me of being ashamed of my roots. Of my family. And I didn't accuse you of 'some shit'. I can't accuse since I'm gay too. But I fucking outed you and for that I'm sorry," Ian said, without taking into consideration that Mickey wasn't ready to hear the word 'gay'.

"Not gay," he snapped back on instinct.

"Mickey, you got so angry over what I said, that has weight to it, I can see..." Ian tried to talk to him calmly, as he was aware that Mickey could snap at any moment and start a fight, but it was frustrating because he _knew_ , he could see Mickey was gay and yet he stone-faced denied it like it was some kind of evil. "Look, I'm just here to talk to you and listen to you, help, you know? Not here to judge."

Mickey remained silent for a few moments, looking down at the floor while drinking from the bottle.

"I think I need more beer in my system to have a fucking conversation about it," he said. Ian chuckled and nodded.

"I can wait."

 

***

 

"You, huh, you're not ashamed of being South Side, then?"

Ian was still on his first beer, Mickey his fourth, when the thug began to talk. Apparently he still wasn't ready to face the gay topic and wanted to start with Ian's roots. Fine by the redhead. Silence was worse. If Mickey needed a little warming up first, Ian could give it to him.

"I'm... Ok, first - this is kind of a private matter. So don't tell this to anyone, alright?"

Mickey's eyebrows rose, but the man eventually nodded. "Not a fucking gossip."

"Yeah, I get that. Just... making sure." Ian sighed. He didn't know if he was ready to tell his secret to Mickey, a man that was basically a stranger to him. But he knew that that was the only way to make him talk too. And he trusted him not to tell anyone. Nobody from the South Side's a snitch. Plus… Somewhere in his mind something suggested that Mickey would get it. "Okay, huh... First, I'm bipolar. You know what is it?"

Mickey shrugged. "Think I saw something about it on television. Like highs highs followed by lows lows, right? That shit's tough, man."

Ian found himself chuckling. "Yeah, shit's definitely tough. Production knows. I kind of had to tick a box about mental illnesses in my contract. It has _never_ been a problem with my work, I swear."

"Hey, I didn't say nothing."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just... Anyway. I've been on my meds for more than ten years. But my disorder kicked in when I was seventeen and... high high and low low, right? My family got so worried and I wanted for them to let me live, you know? I told them I was taking the pills the doctor gave me, but I wasn't. I didn't think I was bipolar back then. My mom was, not me. It was a good period for me anyway, and my siblings seemed to trust me more with stuff. Fiona, my older sister, she'd let me take care of our younger brother. So one day I'm strolling with Liam and I meet this guy I knew at this club and he invites me to this after-party -well, it was more of a never ending party, it'd been on for like two days straight- and I'm like 'sure! I'll bring my baby brother with me'. We go and..." His memories were a blur, but Ian could still remember the laughing people and the drugs. Stripes. Pills. Liquid. Smoke. He remembered the variety and how light he felt. How fucking happy and amazing. Until- "Liam OD'd. When we arrived I first thought about keeping him safe, you know? But he was fucking asleep in his stroller. And then the drugs... In the haze I remember someone shouting something about a kid. I guess that some people has sobered up, I don't know. Then there are EMT's in the house and then the hospital... My baby brother was in a coma. Because of me. He... He woke up, eventually. But the doctors weren’t sure if there was any damage to his brain.”

“How’s the kid now?”

Ian seemed to wake up from his reverie and noticed that Mickey had spoken. The man had sat quietly during all his ranting, silent, just listening to him. Ian was glad.

“Huh?”

“The kid, how’s he now?”

There was no trace of contempt or disgust in his voice and that give Ian enough force to reply.

“He’s… living a normal life, I guess. As much as life’s normal in the neighborhood. But he didn't start talking until he was fucking five. Now he's almost sixteen and he lives in his own world. At least that's what they told me. Maybe he'd have been like that anyway but…”

“You can't know that. Is he a good kid?”

Ian nodded. “He's very peaceful. Never got in trouble at school. Gets good grades.”

“Well it's good then.” Mickey nodded.

“But-"

“Kid hates you now?”

The redhead took a moment, thinking. “I don't think he remembers anything. He was only three. And it's not like he knows me.”

“That why you kept yourself away from your family? Can't face the kid?”

Ian nodded. “My family too. After what happened I got a hold of myself. I started getting my treatment and I got better, eventually. But I couldn’t… Time passed, so…”

“You think it’s too late.”

“Yeah. I have a life here. Away from them. I send money and gifts, but I can’t just pop in, say hello if I was passing by.”

Mickey opened his mouth to talk and Ian braced himself for whatever the man wanted to accuse him of. He didn’t know if he was ready to be judged, but he’d accept it nonetheless.

“I’m gay,” Mickey blurted out instead, causing Ian to turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, I’m… gay. Fuck.”

Ian watched the man sigh in relief, as if he had been holding that breath for his whole life. And he probably had. Ian hadn’t expected that abrupt switch of conversation, but he was glad it happened. He could feel tears prickling his eyes and he needed a break. Mickey had a new beer in his hand. The redhead had lost count of how many he had drunk. The man was definitely hammered by now.

“A big ol’ mo. You know?” Mickey grimaced at the words. “A fucking faggot, a pole smoking queer, an AIDS monkey… That’s what my Pops used to call a guy who happened to like dick.”

Ian decided to keep his mouth shut, giving the man the same possibility of speaking freely, without interruptions.

“I…” Mickey took another gulp at his beer. “That's how I was raised, you see. Not just in the neighborhood. At home too. Hell, my father was the fags boogeyman. Kids went for ice cream with their parents. Me and my brothers would go bashing some homos. I had to kick a few myself. Make pops proud of me. But deep down… hell, not even that deep. I knew what I liked. I knew how I liked it. I just couldn't do it. Then I went to juvie and this guy… he gave me a blow job. Best experience of my  life back then. Second time I went to juvie I got to fuck someone. I had to beat the guy bloody not to let him talk. But every time I got home, I just, couldn’t? It was like, a feeling. That my father knew. I mean, he didn’t or I’d be dead by now, but the feeling was that from just a glance he could tell? I banged chicks, I talked about pussy all the fucking time. Sometimes I just hoped to knock up some girl and be done with it. Be a classic South Side teen with a kid. The norm.”

Ian only nodded. He knew what it was like. He had an accepting family, but he remembered the name Terry Milkovich. It inspired fear until-

“Then Pops kicked the bucket and I was free. My brothers were too stupid, there had been really only my dad to consider. So, after the funeral, I got drunk and went to Boystown, ready to finally… be. I found this dude. Tall, good looking and he wanted me. We were in this alley and he’s behind me, but I’m shivering and I think I heard something. It’s just a rat in the dumpster but it’s enough for me. I turn back and punch the dude and start kicking him. A group come and see me and they join me in the beating. They’re fucking fag-bashers. They were in Boystown to start something. And it could’ve been me, the one bashed. Just a minute earlier… And you know what? They recognize me, they saw me at the funeral. They say my dad would be proud. They take me out drinking, celebrating the dead bastard. I only remember crying and them thinking it was grief.”

Mickey opened another beer. He stared at the bottle for a few seconds.

“Pops won. Even from his fucking grave. I planned to give him a big fuck you and instead I was celebrating with his homophobic buddies. From that moment on, I just- let go, I guess. I moved to this apartment and I stopped pretending with chicks. But I can't bring myself to try again, you know? I make me some money, I stay home. That's it. And then your fucking ginger ass had to blurt everything out with my sister present.” His tone was accusing but there was no bite to it.

“Yeah, I'm so sorry about that,” Ian said.

Mickey only shrugged. He almost looked peaceful. The alcohol in his body had definitely taken effect. “It's out now. And I'm sorry too, you know, for the family thing.”

Ian watched him scratching the side of his nose. That man was _so_ not used to apologizing. “It's okay. I get why you thought I was ashamed of my roots. I was kind of a prick to you. But it's 'cause I never felt any interest from your part. At least now I know why.”

Mickey scoffed. He passed a new beer to Ian, who didn't even notice he'd finished his first. He was getting drunk too, alright.

“And why's that?”

“You said so yourself. You thought your father had won. You didn't see the point of getting better. But now you do.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. Your father can't dictate your life anymore. No more. I'll help you. You'll get better and Scott and I will make an awesome faggot out of you.”

Mickey laughed at that. He really did. It was a deep laugh, caused by too much beer, but really originated by all the anger and frustration accumulated in years of being bottled up.

“I’ll let this pass just 'cause I’m too drunk, man. I should fucking fuck you up,” Mickey said in between hiccups and a laugh that he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

“Just like your tats?” Ian couldn’t help himself. He started laughing too. Mickey was contagious. It was good to just pour everything out for once, lighten up the burden on their shoulders.

“Just like ‘em!”

Their laughing eventually died, but their faces were marked by tears. Maybe because of too much laughing, maybe it was the crying that always comes after such a relief. Mickey sighed, leaning back against the couch.

“Anyway, man.” Mickey wiped the tears from his eyes. “Not to sound like I’m snooping or anything, but you should go to see your family, even to say hello. Family’s important. I know that and I had a fucking monster as a father.”

Ian looked at the ceiling. Fuck, even the ceiling was dirty, how was that even possible? He had to thank the alcohol in his bloodstream that made him not think about the state of the armchair he was seated on. Still, it had been some time since he had felt so relaxed in someone’s company. And of all the people in the world, that someone had to be Mickey Milkovich, thug extraordinaire.

“No, you’re right. I’m just not ready. But I will be.” Ian nodded and surprisingly, it was with conviction. “And you? You ready to be who you are?”

Mickey scoffed. “A piece of shit? No, correction - a piece of gay shit?”

“No. You’re better than you credit yourself. I can see that now. And I meant it, I want to help you, as much as I can. You only need to let me.” Ian looked openly at him as he spoke. He wanted to convey how serious he was. Mickey seemed to get it.

“Okay, man.” He surrendered. “I-”

A phone ringing interrupted him. It was Mickey’s phone. The man grimaced.

“It’s Mandy. Again. I don’t even know what to tell her.”

“You can start with the truth. She seems a nice person, I wonder why you’ve never told her.”

Mickey put the phone away, on the table. “'Cause I couldn’t tell myself either? But no. I wanted to tell her. It’s just that something happened and after that I couldn’t tell her no more.”

Ian frowned. “Like what?”

“Nah, man. That’s about Mandy. Today you only get to know about my private shit, not hers.”

That sounded fair. The redhead nodded. “You’ll have to tell her something now.”

Mickey grumbled. “I know. And I will. But for the moment can we just keep on drinking?”

Ian chuckled. He leaned forward to clink his bottle with Mickey’s. All their problems could wait for another few hours.

 

***

 

Mickey was in front of Mandy’s front door. Just like Ian had suggested, he had brought with him chocolate ice cream. Nothing better to soothe a girl’s anger. Better than flowers for sure.

Still, he had yet to knock on the fucking door. Mandy had left like a dozen texts and even more calls and now Mickey was standing there, not knowing how to tackle the situation.

Mandy solved it for him when she opened the door.

“I can hear you cursing from here, Mick!” She shouted. He hadn’t even noticed he had been swearing all along. He took sight of his sister. She looked a mess, with a day old smudged mascara and tangled hair.

“Yeah, huh. Hi, I was passing by?”

Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Come inside. We need to talk.”

She stepped aside to let him enter. Mickey exhaled a breath, trying to muster all the bravery he was capable of. He knew he was not going to escape this. She remained silent, grabbing the ice cream from Mickey’s hold and bringing it to the kitchen, where she sat on a stool.

“You’ll just answer my questions, okay?”

Mickey frowned, but nodded anyway. He was in no position to argue.

She grabbed a spoon. “Are you really gay?”

Her brother sighed. It had been easier with Ian, a six pack of beer inside his body. Now he felt bare in front of his sister, completely helpless.

“Yeah…”

Mandy nodded. “You’ve always known but you never told me.”

“Is that a question?”

“Just fucking answer, assface.”

Mickey eyes followed Mandy taking the lid off the box of ice cream. “I guess I’ve always known… Kind of obvious when you can’t get it up watching porn unless you focus on the guy’s dick. Uh… Do you have beer?”

Mandy scoffed. “White wine. In the fridge.”

Wine… What the fuck. Mandy had gotten a refined taste ever since her marriage. But Mickey couldn’t get into an argument with his sister about alcoholic beverages, not right now. So, wine it was. He poured the straw yellow liquid into a glass and emptied it in five seconds. “And I never told you, 'cause… I never told anybody. It was difficult enough to accept it myself.”

“But after dad died-”

“Even worse.”

“What, like you saw his ghost when you were getting some ass?”

Mickey found himself chuckle. “Something like that.”

“Ew, gross. Oedipus complex at his maximum.”

“Isn't Oedipus a thing with the mother?”

“Yeah, well, you're gay, so.”

“Bitch,” he scoffed.

Mandy’s face softened. She invited him to sit next to her. “He really fucked us up, didn't he?”

Mickey nodded. “He did.”

His sister finally plunged a spoon in her ice cream. Shit was getting serious.

“Did you know?”

Mickey sniffed. He feigned ignorance. “Know what?”

His sister glared at him. She didn't just plunge the spoon, she was fucking stabbing the dessert.

“Don't play stupid.”

“Thought I was stupid to you?”

She shook her head. “No, you're my smart, _trusted_ brother.”

Fuck. Guilt hit him like a punch in the gut. It really wasn't the case to play stupid.

“I knew.”

Mandy tighten her lips white. She nodded, understandingly. Then, before Mickey could even think of ducking it, she slapped him. Hard. He deserved it anyway.

“I’m so sorry, Mands.” And he meant it

She held onto his hand. “Just- just explain.”

Mickey nodded. It was time to tell the truth.

“I knew that Nick was gay.” Before Mandy could slap him again, he added. “I  discovered it _after_ you got married to the fucker. I mean, you kinda married him fast and you were so fucking happy-”

“It was a fake happiness,” Mandy cut in. He had to agree. “How did you discover it?”

“You wanted us to get closer. Remember? Bonding between in-laws? So we went drinking, he got severely hammered-"

Mandy’s eyes widened. “You didn't…”

“What? No, fuck no! It was- you know what? I won't tell you anything about it, you don't deserve it.” He didn't want his sister to know how her former husband had proposed the idea of having an affair to Mickey. How Nick had said that having sex with her brother wouldn't count as cheating. How Mickey had been tempted because he needed it so bad. He remembered punching Nick and feeling like a piece of shit at home, in Mandy’s company. His silence. His sister had found out about Nick not even a month later, when guess what, he was caught together with his secretary. Raoul. In the meantime Mickey had struggled. He had wanted to tell his sister, but the fear of being discovered in turn had overtaken the love he held for his sister. He had felt terrible, even more when he'd witnessed to Mandy’s sorrow. “You found him with that guy the month later anyway, but I didn't tell you and I'm so sorry about it.”

Mandy remained silent. She scooped the chocolate in her mouth, taking her time. Without emitting a sound she went in the living room, sitting on the couch where she'd been watching television.

“Mands?” Mickey followed her, standing still.

She started zapping through the channels, not really looking at him.

“You didn't do anything with Nick?”

“No.”

“And you've never married some woman because you're gay and a bastard?”

“I'm yeah, gay. And a bastard but no, never married a woman, you know that.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “And you didn't tell me about him 'cause you were scared it'd out you?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you couldn't face your own sister and tell her that you like dick?”

Mickey was feeling his ears getting warmer and warmer. “Also correct.”

This time around she kicked him smartly enough to make him fall. “Be grateful I didn't kick you in your fucking groin, you fuckhead.”

Fuck, Mickey was so sorry he didn’t even mutter ‘skank’ when he fell down on his ass.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I’m you damn sister!”

“I know! I’m sorry!”

“I had to wait for Ian to out you! What the fuck! Would you have ever told me?”

Mickey shrugged, now sitting on the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe, if you continued to be married to that jackass. But since you’re not...I mean, you’d have been the first to know if I ever decided to come out.” Ugh. Come out. He didn’t even like the phrase. Sounded so fucking gay nowadays.

His sister sighed. “You’re in the doghouse now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t forgive you. You’re a shitty brother, but still my favorite one.”

“Thank you, Mands.”

She nodded. Almighty and understanding. “At least that Ian prick made something good, right?”

“You know... He’s not so bad. He came to apologize and we talked so… Huh. Why are you smiling?”

“Nothing, nothing.” But she couldn’t hide her smile.

“What?”

“Okay, hm… Is a guy like Ian your type or…?”

Oh _fuck no._ Over his dead body! He was not going to be the fag who told everything to his fucking sister. “Oh no, we’re not going there!”

“Hell yes we are!” Mandy exclaimed. “We’re gonna talk about boys and watch chick flick movies and… let’s begin now. I’m gonna grab you a spoon and we can share the ice cream!”

Mickey tried to stop his sister. He really did. But five minutes later he was on the couch sharing chocolate ice cream and watching Legally Blonde. Of course he would never admit that he found the movie funny.

“You know, Mick?” Mandy began during the movie. “Pops screwed us up. In so many ways. I hope that from this day on you won’t let him have any satisfaction from the hell he’s in now. Be gay, be a professor, an astronaut, a fucking sherpa if you want. You’re not fucked up for life.”

Mickey nodded. He put a hand on top of his sister’s. “You too. He made you think you’re good only as long as you have a man. It’s not true. You can do whatever you like, alone or with company, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to fall from some other Nick 'cause they’ve been nicer to you than other men. You don’t deserve another piece of shit husband.”

She smiled a little. It was a real smile. A shy yet hopeful one.

“We’ll just have to see, right?” She knocked her shoulder against her brother’s. “You going to behave now with Ian and Scott and try for real?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. “Got nothing to lose by trying, anyway.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lovely, adorkable beta ElfyDwarf. As always thank you so much, dear! <3 <3 <3 Especially for your special essay *wink wink*
> 
> Get on my tumblr and let's chat lol


	7. The Spa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's at the Spa with Mandy and Scott.  
> There are flashbacks, 'cause I love flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back with this multichapter :)  
> This is more a filler chapter than anything. But it's important to the story!

Avocado, tomato, carrot, a spill of lemon juice.

Was it a salad?

Your face is a salad!

Well, in this case, Mickey’s face was. At least, avocado, tomato, carrot and a spill of lemon juice were the ingredients for his facial cream. Yeah, his facial fucking cream, you read just right. He even had the friggin' cucumber slices on his eyes.

At least with them covered he didn't have to see Scott and his huge belly lying on the left lounger and his sister in a nonexistent bikini on the one on the right. They'd given each of them a fucking robe at the entrance. What was wrong with these two?  The robe was white and fluffy and smelled so nice. It was like wearing a soft cloud. And yeah, Mickey was aware it sounded gay as hell.

Still, not being able to see didn't mean his ears were safe. Mandy and his mentor, or whatever the fuck that old queen was, had 'clicked' immediately. It had only taken a praise for her shoes on his part and she was already declaring she was his biggest fan ever. The two newly found besties even clinked their disgusting kale smoothies over his head.

It doesn't take a genius to guess the dynamic trio were at a Spa. It was supposed to be only Mickey and Scott, since it was paid for by the magazine, but Mandy had joined them. At Mickey’s expense. Literally. Making him pay with money and her presence was part of a revenge for the secret he'd held for so long? Maybe. Fact was, Mickey had purchased the entrance for his dear, chatty sister and now all he could do was try to isolate himself from the chatter of those two.

“This smoothie is just great, Mick. You should try it,” Mandy said, nudging him with a finger in his side. Fuck her and her pointy fingers.

“Sure, the day I turn into a vegan asshole,” he snarled. He had decided to get on track and lead a healthier life, sure, but, c’mon, kale? Nope.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Mandy muttered. Mickey heard the sound of his sister sucking the straw. Could she be any louder? Fucking hell.

“Exactly. I don’t know and I don’t plan on knowing. Now shut the fuck up, we’re here to relax or some shit, right?” he grumbled.

“We're here to make you seem less dirty,” Mandy immediately supplied. Mickey swore he could hear her smirk.

“We're here for _ you _ ,” supplied Scott.

Mickey only raised his middle finger.

He already felt cleaner than usual. Probably because he had actually started washing his own clothes. And two weeks ago, Ian and he had completely revolutionized Mickey’s apartment.

 

***

 

Maybe they should've asked the magazine to hire a cleaning service, but it wasn't part of the contract, more focused on Mickey and less on his living situation.

Yet Mickey _ was _ his living situation, one reflected the other and vice versa. That was why Ian had suggested they'd just fix it themselves. He had really proposed it in a burst of enthusiasm due to Mickey finally putting some effort into the program. And Mickey had carelessly agreed.

Now they were both swearing and cursing and Mickey had half an idea to just move to another house.

“Can't we just burn everything to the ground?” Mickey asked on a heavy sigh.

Ian chuckled but shook his head. “Just look at it like we're doing gym exercises.”

Mickey looked at him, bemused. Gym didn't wasn't shit compared to what they were doing. Moving furniture over and over again. Cleaning in places Mickey didn't even know existed. Like under the couch. Seriously? There was so much dust under there they could make a pillow. Or even four or five.

Not to mention the cockroaches.

Serious, Mickey had no fucking idea those damn disgusting insects had decided to make his apartment their little city. They had taken residence in his kitchen, they had a theme park in his living room and a cemetery in his bathroom. Nice, huh?

“I swear, Mick, If we find rats, I’mma fly out of here,” Ian said after they had moved the fridge and found a little roach fair, with six legged families enjoying one of Mickey’s long lost dinners.

Mickey didn’t know if he was supposed to feel ashamed or try to look tough and unconcerned. Yet he was really repelled by the show himself and decided to be honest about it. “If there are any rats, I’m following you out.”

They chuckled, but they became kind of wary of every possible rat trace from that moment on.

Still, a part from the fauna, and the dust, and the other atrocities that only an apartment not being cleaned up for years could hold, the majority of their work was breaking their backs to lift stuff.

And boy, did Ian looked good lifting and moving and doing whatever would cause his muscles to bulge. Ever since Mickey had voiced who he was, what he liked, he was now able to admit to himself that yes, he was looking at Ian's ass and yes, he was doing it in a homosexual way. Thing was, after spending decades of pretending, it was hard to express his thoughts.

It was such a new thing for Mickey. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. It was the possibility. Even before, he knew what he liked, but he wouldn't act on it. Now if he wanted to... he could. The only obstacle that had been lifted were his own fears, something just inside his mind, and yet the world was already filling in with colors. Again, yes, he knew how gay it sounded.

That was why Mickey caught himself glancing at the redhead more than once. A very muscular, sweaty redhead. How the fuck Ian could pull off 'sexy' with dust in his hair and stained clothes? It was a mystery to Mickey. And yet... Maybe it was the light in the room making his wet skin sparkly or maybe it was the undeniable fact that that man was simply sexy as hell. That being so, Mickey couldn't help but stare.

And that ginger fuck noticed, because how could he not? And he made fun of it. Making exaggerated sexy poses, or swinging his clothed groin every time Mickey's eyes lowered too far down.

"Mick, you so need to get laid," Ian chuckled. And Mickey joined in too. Because it was okay. Because him looking at some handsome guy was not something to punish with fists and kicks and slurs. It was okay.

Not in a million years would Mickey have ever thought he would see his sexual preference as 'okay'.

Ian was helping him, Mandy was too. Even Scott in his own way, because that lardball was such a faggot he made Mickey feel incredibly manly. Plus, yeah, he was a nice person after all and Mickey didn't completely abhor his company, alright?

But Ian...

After threatening him to do it a few times, that dawn Ian had showed up at his front door with cleaning supplies and whatever and with a grin large as the sun; he had told Mickey they were going to clean up the place. Because the place one lives in reflects their personality or some hippie shit. Like a ginger tornado, Ian had started cleaning up his apartment and dragged the still sleepy owner in on his mission.

It was exhausting, and tiring and stressful. And, contrary to Mickey's expectations, it was funny as hell. Mickey didn't remember when he had so much fun with another person, a stranger, de facto. And Ian was funny and witty and, well, bossy too. Dramatic as a prima donna but also ready to get down and dirty (meaning, without fear, he'd been the first to get a hold of himself and started debugging the whole area).

By the end of the day, like really the end of the day, it was almost midnight - how fucking long had they worked on his shitty apartment? - Mickey and Ian were boneless and so tired they were probably going to fall asleep on the couch they were slumped on any time. Even if that couch was lacking pillows. They had all the pillows of the house sent to the dry-cleaners. The only piece Mickey had saved from Gallagher had been his fucking mattress and only with the promise he would change it with a new, sanitized one as soon as possible.

"Man, so fucking tired..." Ian yawned, not even bothering covering his mouth.

"I thought I'd never see the day Ian fucking Gallagher admit he was _ tired _ ."

Ian chuckled. "Hey, even an amazing stud like myself can't always be so full of stamina. I so need to recharge with a long soak in my bathtub and at least eight hours of sleep. You can do it too now. We scrubbed your bath pretty good, don't ya think?"

Mickey nodded. "Yeah man, I can use it as a fucking mirror now."

The redhead smiled and even in the dim light given by one remote lamp, Mickey found his smile dazzling.

 

***

 

It was massage time!

Mickey wanted to appear grumpy about it, but the truth was he was kind of curious. People would always say how relaxing it was so yeah, Mickey wanted to give it try.

And there was also something even nicer to add to the count. There, in the privacy of that little room, there was a full sized mirror. Mickey didn't possess such a big mirror at home and he couldn't exactly use the ones at the gym as there was no fucking privacy. But in that moment…

A bit shyer than he'd like to admit, Mickey took off his white, fluffy robe and put it on the table. He was supposed to get naked anyway (with a fucking towel on, he wasn't going to present his ass to the masseuse).

He was standing naked, in front of the mirror. It was April and ever since Mickey had started putting some real effort into exercising and dieting, his body was letting him know it was happy with the healthy decision. Mickey had lost weight, that much was apparent, and he could see his body shaping. His legs were more toned, his belly was more flat and his ass… well Mickey was starting to like his ass, even if just a little bit.

So yeah, Mickey was staring at his ass and standing in an awkward position by the mirror. He wasn't exactly comfortable, but being alone certainly helped.

Mickey was so taken by the new discovery of his fitter body that he got half a heart attack when someone knocked on the door. Thank _ God _ it was fucking closed.

“What the fuck!” Mickey shouted, jumping at the unexpected sound.

“Mr. Milkovich? Could you open up please?” a feminine voice called for him on the other side of the door.

Oh, right. The masseuse.

“Y-yeah. Just a sec.” Mickey had to wake up from his staring and walked towards the table to find what he was supposed to wear. There was a small package that, once opened, revealed a tiny paper slip. He grimaced at the sight but put it on anyway. It looked ridiculous and it didn't cover shit and damn if a string between his ass cheeks was giving him a weird sensation. To feel safer, Mickey also wrapped a neatly folded towel tightly around his waist.

He went to open the door and two figures appeared. A big, muscular man and a slender woman, both dressed in white, were standing there with a professional smile on their faces.

“Hello,” they practically sang in unison.

“Huh, yeah, hello,” Mickey grumbled as a greeting. He move aside to let them pass.

Was he aware of the fact that he was standing half naked in front of the masseuses? Yeah. Yet the fact that they were paid to give him a service made it less embarrassing.

“I’m Hans, and this is Laura,” the man said. “Please, lay on the table.”

Mickey couldn't help but notice how nicely built was this Hans guy. Although, he had such a bovine look about him that Mickey couldn't think of him as his ‘type’.

He went to lay on the table, always keeping his towel well wrapped around him. Alas, that wasn't allowed.

“We need to remove the towel. If you prefer you can put it on again when Hans will start the massage.”

Mickey looked at Laura, confused. “We're not doing it now?”

Laura smiled, but shook her head. “Supposed to, but your sister paid for something extra. She said you wanted it.”

While she was speaking, Hans had already set to heating a bowl or something with what looked like honey inside. An alarm bell rang in Mickey’s ears.

“And what it is that I wanted?” he asked. Before he could stop her, Laura was fast at removing the towel from around his ass.

Not being embarrassed because they were paid? Scratch that. Now only wearing that ridiculous white slip, Mickey wanted to dig a hole to fucking China. “ _ Hey _ !”

“Well, huh, your sister left a message,” she continued, now drowning a little spatula in the heated bowl. She moved it inside and then pulled it out. “She, mh, said -and these are her words- ‘you owe me, so suck it’.”

Mickey’s eyes widened. He lowered them only when he felt something incredibly warm on the iside of his thigh. “What the…”

Two strong hands pressed down on his abdomen, the other on his knee. Laura put a white paper stripe on the honey or whatever it was. It didn't smell like honey, though. Before he could react, before his brain could register that yes, he knew what was actually happening… the beautician pulled up the strip with force.

Only one word echoed through the walls with the sound of tearing. Full of pain and resentment. But mostly pain.

“MANDYYYYYYYYYYY!!”

 

***

 

Eat better! Exercise more!

And fuck, that was what Mickey was doing.

That didn't mean that now being at the gym was easier. It was actually harder because Ian had increased the routine. More miles to run, more exercising sessions. More everything. More being close to Ian's crotch seeing that, now Mickey was really doing his training, he'd ask for help for the right movements and posture.

And the touching? There was more touching as well. It wasn't intentional, because of course his red haired trainer would have to touch him in order to help.

Mickey would feel his warm fingers on his ankles when doing sit-ups. Or his large palms pressed on his lower back.

They were in the middle of an exercise, Ian with both his hands between Mickey's scapulae while doing a stretching exercise, when the older man finally decided to sit.

“I'm, huh, I signed in for my GED,” Mickey said, trying to sound totally blasé about it. It was easier without Ian looking him in the eye. That arrangement didn't last for long, though.

“No way! Finally!” Ian rejoiced and put himself in front of Mickey, a big smile on his face. “I'm so happy for you, Mick!”

The weird thing was, Mickey actually believed that. Ever since Ian and he had their heart to heart they had come to discover more things about the other, they had started to talk. They learnt they could have fun together even while at the gym and that made Mickey feel more at ease with the other man. He felt like he could trust him.

That was why Mickey had decided to let Ian be the first to know about his big decision. The smile sported by the redhead gave him the confirmation he needed.

Mickey still resorted to play it off on the down low, so he shrugged. “I'm going to the first class this evening. It's really not that big of a deal.”

“Not that-”, Ian had his mouth open in disbelief. “It is a _ big _ fucking deal. You're doing something good. I'm… I'm sure your sister is so proud of you.”

“Yeah…” Or at least she would be, once he told her. But for now, Ian's happy expression was more than enough.

 

***

 

Mhn… Now, that was nice.

The previous forty minutes (which had really seemed like a lifetime) had been hell. Honey, right! That was fucking wax! And he, Mickey, a man of thirty-two who had never even been in the proximity of tweezers, had experienced, on his skin, the worst torture of all: wax. Hans would keep him still while that bitch would pull out his body hair without mercy. And now he was smooth like a fucking baby, from his feet to… Well, let's just say Mickey could now wear a thong without any fear of showing pubic hair. He must have passed out during the torture because when he had regained his senses, Laura was already gone and Hans was ready to put some kind of oily stuff on him.

“Relax, it's just for the massage,” The big man said, raising his free hand in surrender. Mickey had probably given him the stink eye without even noticing.

Mickey relaxed at his words and turned on his stomach as instructed, keeping his damn towel on. Hans and his partner in crime had already seen too much of his ass. Which was now red as a baboon’s by the way.

Hans oiled up his back, his large hands moving expertly on his skin, massaging his sore muscles. Fuck, that was good. There was some kind of new age music on, like birds fucking chirping and waterfall sounds. Whatever. It was actually pretty relaxing and Mickey closed his eyes.

Bad, bad move.

Because those hands… those hands were so good. Gentle but able to push on the right spots, making Mickey grunt in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Not being able to see, those hands became someone else's. No more Hans, but his own fucking personal trainer was there, taking care of his body, moving his fingers on his skin, applying pressure. And when he moved to the lower back, just by the hem of the towel…

'It' woke up.

Mickey stilled and Hans noticed.

“Please, relax.”

Yeah, relax his perfectly smooth ass! He had a hard on and he was feeling the need to rub it against the table, but of course he couldn't. And that damn masseuse kept on moving his warm hands- oh _ no _ , fuck it.

“Nope, I'm done here,” Mickey said, getting to his feet, the towel and one of his own hands covering his erection as well as he could. He grabbed the fluffy robe as soon as he spotted it.

“But we haven't finished yet-"

“Oh no, we have,” Mickey hastily said, putting on the robe. Hans’ bovine eyes became sad though, so Mickey had to add “But your massage… awesome man, I'll recommend you, I swear! I just, you know, feel so good now. I'm new again so, yeah, bye.”

With these last words, Mickey was out in a flash.

 

***

 

Mickey had wanted to believe Mandy’s promise that no one in South Side read Fair.

Well, of course his sister was wrong.

Mickey was drinking his beer -yes, he was eating and drinking healthy now and all that shit but nobody could take beer away from him, at least not all of it- when Vee slammed the guilty magazine on the counter, right in front of him.

“Damn, I didn't know we have a celebrity down here!” she said with a huge grin.

Mickey was fast at hiding the magazine under his forearms. He wanted to come strongly at the woman, but he knew better than to piss off the co-owner of the bar. Nobody wanted spit in their own drinks. Or not being served at all.

“Will you shut up?!” he whispered at her. Fuck, he was feeling his cheeks heat by the second.

“C'mon, Mickey. It's not like is a secret or anything,” said Kermit.

Mickey’s eyes near fell out of his eyes sockets. His head snapped to his left to look at the man seated on the stool next to his. He almost hadn't noticed him before he had opened his damned mouth.

Mickey looked at Vee with an accusing stare, but the blabber mouth didn't wince for a second. “Yeah… I was telling Kev, but Kermit and Tommy were listening, sorry? Think Frank heard it too, but maybe he was too drunk to remember.”

Mickey opened his mouth to say something he'd later regret, but Kermit clicked beer with him, leaving the man dumbfounded. “What's the problem? We all think it's kinda cool,” he nodded to himself. “You're gonna be famous with the ladies.”

Mickey, who had been ready to hit Kermit and bolt, found himself relaxing. He was even able to chuckle. “Sure, gonna get me some North Side girl.”

Vee scoffed. “What's wrong with the Southies?”

“They're fucking blabber mouths, that's what they are,” Mickey said, earning an eye rolling from Vee. “But seriously, if you tell anyone else-"

“You're gonna make us regret it?” Kermit supplied, calmly sipping at his beer.

“Uuhh, we're so scared!” Vee mocked him. She put three shot glasses on the bar top, filling them with whiskey. “But seriously, we won't tell if that's what you want. It's a pity, though, 'cause that's pretty darn cool. I'd love to have a fitness trainer, all for myself. And you also get some money to spend on shopping? Lucky guy!”

Mickey shrugged, because he didn't know how to behave. He'd been so worried about being discovered that now that they seemed so chill about it, he felt like an idiot for not telling them before. Who knows, maybe one day he'd even come out to Vee.

In the meantime, he gulped down the whiskey in their company.

“You know, huh, my trainer is Ian Gallagher, like, Frank's son,” he felt like saying after the burn in his throat faded.

Vee nodded. “True. He was such a nice kid, too. Dreaming of joining the army and be a patriot solider.”

“But…” Mickey scratched his nose. “He had a falling out with his family… or something.”

Vee raised one eyebrow. Did she get that he was investigating? Just a little bit. “Yeah. But that's really not for me to tell. Ask him. Or ask the Gallaghers if you want, you know where to find them.”

Mickey nodded. Maybe he should hear the others’ version of the story.

 

***

 

Everyone was staring at him with too much intensity for his taste. Mandy, Scott and now this strange woman with her hair completely shaved on one side and acid green on the other. She looked like Mandy’s dolls after his bratty young self had had his fun ruining them for his sister.

“You want to take a picture? It'll last longer,” he snapped.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Mick, we're trying to decide your new look here. It's kind of a big deal.”

And a big deal it was indeed if they were taking so much time deciding. After the waxing and the aborted massage, Mickey had met again with his two Fairly Oddparents. That bitch had just laughed at him and his red, silky legs. She actually had the guts to be sarcastic about it, telling him that he should actually thank her since his future gay partners would have appreciated it. And that it was that or the ass bleaching.

They had put their clothes on once again, but Mickey still hadn't finished. They dragged him to the beauty salon area, where he was supposed to get a haircut and get rid of his patchy beard. He had thought about protesting, but after the waxing his energy to fight was gone.

So there he was, sitting on a chair with three pair of eyes set on him, one of which belonged to his hair stylist.

“I think I know what he needs,” the woman said, nodding.

“We trust you, Kat,” said Scott.

“Hey, speak for yourself!” Mickey grumbled, only to make the trio laugh. What the fuck? Had the facial cream transformed his expression into a puppy’s scowl? Nobody taking him seriously… Meh.

Kat looked him straight in the eye, though. “You're in good hands, promise.”

Mickey only shrugged. What he was supposed to do anyway? He tried to appear as unconcerned as possible. “Whatever.”

Kat nodded and then it was water and shampoo and hair masks? The fuck? And scissors and other strange instruments. She cut his hair, shaved it, shaved his face too. Put some balm or something on it. Gel in his hair, lots of it.

During all of it, Mickey hadn't been allowed to look in the mirror. Mandy even insisted for everyone not to look him in the eye as to not let him reflect himself in their pupils. She was dead serious in her silly decision.

It was only after a goddamn _ hour _ that Mickey finally received the permission to see his own face.

“Okay, Mick. You ready?” his sister asked. Mickey raised both his eyebrows.

“Of fucking course I am. I'm not a bitch like yourself, I don't fucking ca-"

Finally, he saw himself.

“...re.”

He was… different? And yet he wasn't. Kat hadn't put makeup on or dyed his hair. He was still him, but…

Fuck, he was kind of hot?

His beard was gone, revealing his clean, youthful face. Kat had given him a short back and sides and left the top long but trimmed, gelled back in coif. He touched his neck lightly, but retracted his hand immediately once he heard Mandy snicker behind him.

“Aww, Mick. You’re liking what you’re seeing, huh?” she poked his shoulder.

Kat nodded. “He should. You have such a nice round face, and your skin is flawless. Really, what was the point of hiding it? Look at your baby blue eyes, how much they stand out now!”

“Oh, shut up,” Mickey shrugged. Was he embarrassed? As fuck. He had never received so many compliments in his entire life. He shrugged. “I’m just, more…. shaved, that’s all.”

Scott chuckled. “Stop it, you’re so shy! You look so handsome. If I was ten years younger…”

“As well as fifty pounds lighter,” said Mickey, obtaining Scott to roll his eyes, but he wasn’t offended. Scott had learnt of his homosexuality without really telling him, but Mickey had discovered he wasn’t angry or anything. Scott knowing was actually relaxing. During physical training and Scott’s training he could just be himself. It was nice.

Mandy was talking again with Kat and Mickey took advantage of it to look again at his new appearance. He didn't remember his lips being so plump or his nose being thin and straight. Maybe it was the first time in his life that he was so thoroughly clean. He fucking stunk of cologne, for fucks sake.

“Okay, guys. Let's go. You want to go to a bar? We could show Mickey around a little, now that he's all dolled up,” Scott suggested.

“We still need to buy new clothes, though. He still looks like a bum,” Mandy commented. Mickey didn't reply, he was aware his sister was looking forward going shopping with him. He couldn't postpone it any longer.

He got up. “Yeah, let's just go. I need a drink now.” Something with alcohol in it, thanks.

They went outside and finally Mickey was able to see the sun again. And… something else entirely.

A flash of red hair, brightened up by the sunlight, captured Mickey’s attention. Scott must have noticed where he was looking at because he told him:

“Oh yeah, I was texting with Ian before. He said he was curious about your new look, so I invited him to join us.”

Mickey only half listened to him because, and he didn't know for what fucking reason, his heart was beating faster in his chest as Ian approached. Was he scared Ian would tell him he sucked or something? Mickey wasn't a bitch, he wasn't fucking afraid of what the others thought. Yet… damn his heart, hitting harder and louder against his ribcage.

Ian stopped in front of them and Mickey felt the man's eyes on him. He had to lower his own. Oh fuck, he was a coward, wasn't he?

“You look good, Mick,” Ian praised him.

That simple compliment was really all it took for Mickey to blush immediately. He raised up his eyes on instinct, meeting warm, green ones.

“Uh, thanks?” Mickey grumbled, looking somewhere else a second later.

Mandy chuckled. “Oh my, first time for Mickey to thank someone? You're a lucky guy, Ian!”

Mickey decided to do the only thing he could come up with. He flipped the bird to everyone present. Was turning into a blushing maiden now?! _ Fuck _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Dana Elfy, you're just wonderful <3


	8. The first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has many first times in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're gonna love me...

Mickey adjusted the pair of jeans he was wearing; he had bought them just the month before with his sister and they were already hanging too low. He's continued to lose weight and the effects were plainly visible on his body, and he hadn't just become thinner, he had put on some muscles too.

The former 'dirtiest white man in America' could deny it as much as he wanted, but he was fucking satisfied and quite proud of himself.

Mickey would look at himself in the mirror, in the shop windows; he appreciated his reflection now. It was the one of a man who was actively trying to improve himself by accepting what he liked, what and who he was and gradually enhancing his overall health.

He was still far from being completely comfortable and confident - unlike a certain redhead - but he was working on it. He had never thought he had some sort of self-esteem issue but, oh boy, had he been wrong. Scott had told him that being an angry South Side thug had been him thinking he was just a good-for-nothing not worthy of love, but he wasn't and now he could actually have a chance. Mickey being Mickey had, of course, scoffed and told him he was just a fatass, interrupting the conversation. Deep down, he knew Scott wasn't so far from the truth, but he would be damned if he was going to admit it to fucking Scott.

The dark haired man was now in front of the ‘Cream & Sugar’ and pushed the front door open, rolling his eyes at the usual big smile every waiter showed. He had gotten used to that hipster cafè but that didn't mean he liked the place. Or its employees. And the background music. Oh, and the atmosphere in general.

Even so, meeting there with Eddie wasn't so terrible, even after the magazine had changed their meetings from every two weeks to every single week. First it had been because the younger man was easy to lead on and then have a laugh about his ingenuity. Then Mickey had actually discovered that Eddie possessed a nice sense of humor in his kind of clumsy way, he was a good guy, always keeping a small smile on his freckled face and he was able to put Mickey in a good mood. That wasn't an easy task for anyone.

Mickey found Eddie at their usual spot, next to the big window.

And there it was, a smile on Eddie's face as the older man approached.

“ Hey, Mickey,” he greeted.

Mickey nodded and sat in the booth opposite him.

“ I've already ordered. Should arrive in a moment,” Eddie informed when he saw Mickey shuffling through the menu. “The usual, right?”

Mickey frowned and took a menacing tone. “What if I wanted to change, huh?”

But Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, you always say that. In the end it's always coffee and a slice of apple pie.”

Mickey thought about going on the defense, but he instead opted to scoff at Eddie's sass. “Not my fault that their apple pie is fucking awesome.”

He shrugged. The chocolate cake he had first tried there had been delicious, but the apple pie was on another level. There was no denying it. Not to mention it was one of his few desserts a week.

The waiter arrived. Guess who, it wasn't Ravi, who had asked to change his tables. Moon had taken his place and she was a normal girl who just believed in astrology too much. Moon held a tray containing a pot of coffee, Eddie's weird concoction of the day, a macha frappuccino or something, and their homemade apple pie, with whipped cream on top.

“ Hello, Mickey. How's my favorite Scorpio doing today?” she greeted.

Mickey rolled his eyes. He should've never caved in and told her when he was born. Now she would always try to analyze his behavior in comparison with his sign of the zodiac. “Just fucking give me my coffee, will ya?”

She placed the tray down and served the pie and the frappuccino, then filled Mickey’s cup with the steamy coffee.

“ Mh, always aggressive, just like a prissy Scorpio. I bet you're a Virgo ascendant.”

The older man didn't even bother to reply. He actually liked Moon, he didn't want to fight with her (again).

Eddie pushes the sugar container close to Mickey’s mug with smirk. The fucker knew that Mickey ordered black coffee but he'd always throw a shitload of sugar in it. Fuck, was he really so predictable? Moon would have to say something astrological to say for that. Mickey muttered a thanks and threw the sugar in his coffee.

“ You know, I'm still not sure if being a sweet tooth like yourself is a sign characteristic,” Moon commented, thoughtful.

Mickey just flipped her the bird, but she left with a smile and an unscathed cheerful mood as always.

He gave his attention back to Eddie, calmly sucking at the straw stuck in his green beverage.

“ So, first question?” Mickey asked, finally taking a glorious bite of his pie.

Eddie nodded and after a touch on his phone it started recording. “I want to begin with the usual. How's it going? Even though I can gather that it's going pretty fine. I heard from Scotty and Ian and they’re enthusiast about your developments.”

Mickey scoffed. It was going pretty fine, all right. It had surprised him that he was able to have fun with both men. And yet.

Ever since Mickey had informed Scott that he was taking his GED classes the man had insisted on helping him any way he could. Their sessions had ended up a mixture of homework, grammar and diction, and job interview simulations (even if Mickey still insisted he'd already had a job, Scott had told him after a GED he could take some classes at a community college and find a better job than a part-time mechanic). The fatass was sarcastic and wickedly witty once Mickey went past his too faggy appearance. And Ian…

Well, Ian was something else. From the way they had started, Mickey would have never thought they could actually become friends. Good friends. They would go to the gym and have fun and Ian would give him diet tips and sometimes he'd just spend more time than mandatory with Mickey to chill and watch television together.

“ It's all good. I'm not the best student ever, but at least I'm getting some muscles, right?” Mickey pumped up a little, his newly formed muscles easily showing, wearing only a tank top.

Eddie's cheeks took a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, I can see that,” the guy said, lowering his eyes and taking a huge sip out of the frappuccino. He choked and coughed, causing Mickey to laugh at his expense.

The coughing eventually ceased and Eddie decided to continue with the small interview. It was really about minor details, nothing had much changed since their last encounter, but Eddie listened eagerly to everything Mickey was saying.

“ ... And that's how we just ended going for a run, it fucking stank in there,” Mickey concluded one of his and Ian's last experiences at the gym. Eddie laughed the whole time and even Mickey started to think his misadventure was funny.

He looked at the time and realized it was getting late.

“ Okay. Need to go now. Scott's expecting me in half an hour,” Mickey said, putting down the mug. Eddie seemed disappointed but nodded anyway.

“ Sure. See you next Wednesday then?”

“ Yeah, sorry, man. I really don't get the need to meet once a week. We both have other things to do-"

“ I don't mind,” Eddie interrupted him, both in his speech and his movement since Mickey stopped right in the middle of his standing up. “I, uh, don't mind it one bit. Actually it's sort of my fault if you have to meet me so often…”

Eddie took a weird tone and Mickey sat again. “What'd you mean?”

The younger man blushed, there was no way around it. He started playing with a napkin. “It's not true that the magazine wanted us to meet more often. Actually, uh, after the first three months they push the meetings to once a month. _ I _ told you the contrary.”

Mickey looked at him in disbelief. “And why the hell would you do that?”

Eddie raised his hands. “Okay, please don't get angry. At me or at Scott. I mean I guess you'd be right to be angry, especially at me, so I guess…”

“ Cut it fucking short,” Mickey snapped. Now he didn't have the time to wait for Eddie's nervous ramblings.

“ Sorry!” Eddie shouted and attracted the other customers attention. He lowered his voice immediately, red faced. “I really like your company, Mickey. You're funny and ironic and… I wanted us to continue to meet. Then talking with Scottie I discovered you're gay too and I have a crush on you?”

The last sentence sounded like a question but judging from the intensity in his hazel eyes, Mickey could see that he wasn't kidding. The older man remained taken aback and didn't answer so Eddie continued.

“ And since I couldn't gather the courage to ask you out, I made up these meetings. They're not on the magazine's bill, nobody knows, so… yeah. Sorry, I-I'll set the meeting next month and, if you now despise me, I can ask somebody else to come…”

“ Just stop right there,” Mickey sighed and Eddie stopped immediately. He was still shocked by the news, but he wasn't angry. Well maybe a bit for having been lied to, but this situation was such unfamiliar ground to Mickey that he had to take a few moments to gather his thoughts. Eddie had a crush on him. _ On him _ , Mickey fucking Milkovich. Never in a million years Mickey would've thought somebody would ever… “You like me?”

His voice sounded strangled to his own ears.

“ Yes, Mickey. I do,” Eddie replied, nodding with conviction. “I know that what I did was wrong. I mean, lying… but I want to know more about you, see you more. That's why, uh, if you think you can forgive me… would you like to go out with me?”

“ What?” Mickey snapped. Fuck, it was too much. His heart was beating too fast. Somebody was really asking him out? In which universe was that a possibility?

“ We can just go out for a drink!” Eddie was fast saying. He had probably misinterpreted Mickey’s ‘what’ for a ‘what? Fuck no’, instead of a ‘What? It's difficult for me to understand it ‘cause it has never happened to me before’. “We just get to know each other more and then we'll see…”

Mickey remained silent. His old self would've reacted in the closeted thug way: hit hard and run like hell. But this Mickey, this Mickey wanted to try to be more confident and not be the usual aggressive scaredy cat. He wanted to be a Mickey who was able to believe that someone else could like him. As a person. As a man.

“ Listen, man-” Mickey started, only to get interrupted.

“ I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m so so-”

“ Oh, will you fucking shut up?” Mickey sighed. Fuck, Eddie was really chatty when he was nervous. “Just, fucking listen, okay?”

Eddie nodded, his attention all focused on the man talking.

“ I never…” Mickey ran a hand through his hair. “This is new for me, alright? I just barely accepted… I mean. I need time, okay? We can go out for a drink, I guess. But I’ll decide when and where and I ain't promising anything.”

Eddie nodded; he was taking it seriously and while Mickey was grateful that he wasn't laughing, but at the same time that made him feel even more embarrassed. Was Eddie handling him with gloves? Fuck, he felt like a blushing maiden… and it was even true somehow!

“ Of course I'll wait. I didn't mean to push you or anything, I swear!” Eddie smiled. “Thank you for not saying no, then, uh…”

They were venturing in an awkward silence that could be filled only by more adoring words from the younger man, so this time Mickey stood up.

“ I really need to go now…” he muttered.

“ Sure. Sure, or course,” Eddie said all too fast. “I'll see you, uh, when you feel ready or for the magazine…”

Mickey needed to get out of there. Like yesterday. “Okay, bye!” he shouted in an unusually acute tone.

He didn't look back and fast walked to push the door open. Only when he was met with the damp, warm air of the Chicago summer, he felt like breathing. Smog filled his lungs and the traffic sounds invaded his ears. He decided to concentrate on that, instead of thinking back of what had just happened back at the coffee shop.

Fuck, had he just been asked out?

 

***

 

It was Saturday and it was usually Mickey’s day off. From the garage and from everything concerning the magazine. It wasn't off for dealing, but that was because the weekend was always good for pushing drugs to party people.

Yet this time it seemed like Mickey would be sacrificing even that day to the magazine.

It wasn't a bother, really. He was only planning on chilling out in front of the television from afternoon 'til bedtime. Instead, he would spend some extra time with Ian. On the phone he had told him they would perform some new kind of training. Mickey could only hope it wouldn't be too hard. His shoulders still hurt from the exercises of the previous night. Maybe Ian wanted to go for a run in the fresher hours of the night? It was too hot during the day.

Ian was going to come by at 8 o'clock, more or less. Plenty of time to eat a snack.

Cake?

Cheetos?

Snickers bars?

No, fucking _ carrots _ .

Hell yeah. Mickey was digging in into the badass members of the vegetable family. Lay on the couch and really doing nothing else but watching television, Mickey waited for Ian to come.

Ian arrived on time, introducing himself with a buzz at the intercom. Mickey let him in.

“ Hey,” Ian greeted with a giant smile. Mickey, who was holding the door for him, let his eyes trail down the redhead’s figure. Fuck, Ian was hot that fine evening! Really, Ian was always hot, but that was the first time Mickey saw him all dolled up. Apart from their first meeting, where he had been wearing elegant clothes, Ian always had sportswear on. Mickey had seen the man's tank tops soaked in sweat, sometimes -well, many times- Ian would just remain shirtless, his skin glistening with droplets trailing along his sculpted body. This time, though, even wearing more layers on, Ian appeared more enticing than ever. He was dressed to be appealing, to catch the eye.

Mickey had trouble swallowing down his crunched up carrot.

The redhead was wearing a forest green V-neck, probably a size or two smaller because damn if Mickey was able to see every delicious plane of his hard muscles. The jeans were black and perfectly tight, so much so that it was impossible not to notice that Ian was packing. His auburn hair was gelled black, he had a leather necklace on and…

“ You wearing make up?” Mickey asked, still dazzled by Ian's appearance to remember his manners and step aside to let the guest in.

“ Yeah, it's eyeliner. Looks good, right?” Ian chuckled. “You ever gonna let me pass or you just want to keep talking here?”

Mickey realized they were still on the threshold and with a curse he let Ian in, closing the door as soon as his personal trainer was inside.

He felt under-dressed with Ian so hot and perfect in his apartment. At least he couldn't feel dirty. He washed regularly now. He even smelled nice.

“ Ay, man. What's with the outfit? You going out?” Mickey succeeded in not making his disappointment show. So what if Ian were just passing by instead of spending time with him as he thought?

“ Yeah,” Ian nodded with a dazzling smile. “And you're coming with.”

Ian's words didn't register immediately in Mickey’s mind, but when they did Mickey almost choked. “What?”

“ We're going out, celebrating your outstanding progresses,” Ian stated. “And before you protest, it's Saturday fucking night. It's just crazy, and lame, to spend it home. I'm gay, you are too and we're going amidst other gay as fuck men to have some fun.”

Mickey’s eyes widened at Ian's plan. “You don't mean-"

“ Oh yes, Mick. We're going clubbing tonight.”

 

***

 

“ Yeah, I'm not wearing that,” Mickey said pointing at the silver fishnet tank top Ian was holding in his hands.

The redhead chucked and threw the clothing on the bed. “Then how come you have it?”

“ Fucking Mandy,” Mickey sighed. “She said that now that I'm gay and all, I have to have _ very _ gay things in my closet.”

Ian laughed and went rummaging through the wardrobe in search for something for Mickey to wear.

Mickey complaining had been all for nothing under Ian's excitement for his night out plan. Hardheaded was the only thing the redhead was capable of being; he had dragged Mickey into the bedroom to make him wear something nice for the occasion. Mickey had still half an idea of not going, but he let Ian have a little fun anyway.

“ Okay. I found It,” Ian announced, nodding his head with conviction. He had a sleeveless button down black shirt. “Almost elegant but trashy. Aggressive, but hey you can unbutton it and finally reveal what you worked so hard for. And I'm sure your biceps will stand out.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but Ian pushed the shirt against his chest. “Humor me, Mickey.”

“ Just the shirt and nothing else? I'm gonna humor you alright.”

Ian was fast to toss a pair of dark jeans against his face. “I'll leave you to it, do a catwalk when you come out,” he said before exiting the bedroom.

Mickey scoffed but decided to try the clothes on. He bought them while ago on a shopping spree with Mandy and Scott and he'd been their designated guinea pig. They'd made him try so many clothes in so many shops that he'd kissed his front door when he came back home.

The jeans fitted him just in the right places and if he had possessed more self esteem, he could have admitted his butt looked hella hot in them. Mickey was becoming actually quite proud of his ass. He put the shirt on and buttoned it up to the middle of his pecs.

He didn't have a mirror in his own room, so he'd have to go under Ian's inspection without knowing how he looked. He ran a hand through his hair and with a sigh he opened the door.

He was greeted by a loud whistle.

“ Oh, I knew it! You look so fine, Mickey!” Ian praised him immediately.

“ Ay, fuck you,” Mickey flipped him off, but he had to turn his head away because yes, he was fucking blushing. But it wasn't his fault, he wasn't used to fucking compliments!

Ian smiled. “I’m serious, you know. Your hard work shows.”

Mickey didn't reply. He feared he would thank Ian and turn even more beet red if he did. So he only nodded.

The redhead came closer and ran a hand through Mickey’s dark hair. The shorter man felt his heart skip a beat and he mentally cursed himself. His fucking body, his mind, had been betraying him on anything concerning Ian lately. After the first time he'd jacked off to the younger man, he'd never really stopped. But after the two had become friends, Mickey started feeling guilty as fuck for his actions. He shouldn't use his personal trainer as his personal spank bank, yet every time he'd always end up picturing freckled skin, dark red hair and warm green eyes, toned muscles and that impressive bulge not well hidden in his pants. And Ian's voice. After hating Ian shortening his already shortened name so much, Mickey now basked when Ian would call him-

“ Mick, we totally need to put some gel on. Your hair is sticking every-fucking-where,” the redhead said and left to get the gel in the bathroom. When he came back he focused his concentration in styling Mickey’s hair to his liking.

Mickey sighed in frustration. Ian couldn't even begin to think how much effect he had on the shorter man. Feeling him so close, having his hands on him, his warm breath, smelling his perfume. Fuck, Ian smelled so good.

“ Okay, now go look in the mirror,” Ian said, retracting his sticky hands.

Mickey shook his head, trying to seem simply not convinced instead of disappointed when Ian moved away from him to wash his hands. He followed him into the bathroom and finally he saw his reflection.

“ See? Mickey, you're hot,” Ian said with his damn amazing smile.

And truth was? Mickey was looking at himself and he too thought he was hot. Maybe it was the clothing, maybe the hair, his clean shaved cheeks. Maybe it was his now nicely shaped body. Maybe it was Ian praising him. It didn't matter. It didn't happen so often that Mickey felt good in his own skin, but now it was one of those times.

“ So, what now?” Mickey asked, eyebrows raising.

Ian looked at their reflection in the mirror. “Now we're going clubbing.”

 

***

 

If Mickey had his serious doubts before, now he had his confirmation. Ian and he had just stepped inside the White Swallow and Mickey was already feeling like a fish out of water. Ian was granted VIP access and they were immediately led inside, where the music made Mickey’s ears bleed and the scenery caused the hair on his arms to stand up. Guys. Guys. Guys. Guys grabbing other guys, kissing, grinding. Shirtless guys. Guys wearing only sparkly silver shorts, dancing, caressing their own skin, rolling their hips.

It was hot and the air was damp and the smell was of sweat, sex, and pheromones. It was hard bodies and strong hands. Arousal and excitement. Men who didn't need to hide their desires, because here it was a safe haven. And they could sin and they could love each other. Even for just one night.

Mickey was petrified. He had been expecting it and he hadn't at the same time, because now he found himself in the middle of it all. He could smell, and see, and touch. But all he was doing was looking down at the sticky, glittery floor and keep his hands well glued to his thighs.

Ian noticed his companion’s constipated behavior right away. He wasn't surprised. “C'mon, Mick. I didn't bring you here to become a statue. Relax.”

Mickey looked at Ian with raised eyebrows. “Relax? You're kidding me, right? This place is… is…” He waved his hand towards the dance floor.

“ Awesome? Fucking hot? It makes you want to grab someone by their waist and start grinding against them?”

“ More like it makes me want to go back home,” Mickey grumbled, grimacing at these two guys sucking face. “Get a fucking room!”

The two men detached from each other's lips and looked surprised at Mickey. One of them scoffed. “Oh, honey. You go get a room with your stud.”

Mickey choked on his own saliva. “You wanna fucking die?”

He moved towards the man who had spoken, his hands curled in fists, but Ian was fast in stopping Mickey, grabbing him by the arm. “What have I just said? Relax!”

“ Yeah, listen to your man!” the bold one of the couple said. Now Mickey was ready for the kill. Luckily for the victim, Ian pushed Mickey away before he could do anything bad. Direction: the bar.

“ Calm down, Mick. It's all okay, they're free to be who they are here. And so are you,” the redhead said, forcing Mickey to sit on a stool. He waved at the bartender to get drinks.

Mickey didn't seem convinced yet. “But… I mean, all the touching…”

“ It's okay, Mick. Touching is nice. And kissing. Other stuff too. What's good in these places is that nobody's going to judge. We're all in the same boat,” Ian said, getting the bartender’s attention.

“A very gay love boat,” Mickey scoffed. He was looking down at the bar-stool and didn't notice that the bartender was instead looking at him.

“ Hi, what can I get ya?” he asked, leaning towards Mickey. He was tall and well built, an eye-candy.

“ Uh, a beer,” Mickey said, feeling a bit uneasy under the man's stare.

“ Sure you don't want something else?” the bartender asked, a malicious smile on his lips. “I can make you whatever you want, gorgeous.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and he heard Ian chuckle next to him.

“ Just give me a fucking beer,” Mickey snapped, his cheeks now red after the compliment.

The bartender smiled, nonplussed. He got Ian's order too and left.

“ Somebody's getting laid tonight,” Ian chuckled, earning a middle finger from a still embarrassed Mickey. “It's good, Mick. Really. You're getting noticed and, I mean, why wouldn't you be. You look hot.”

“ Yeah I can confirm,” the bartender said, coming back to them with their orders. Under Mickey’s beer there was a small piece of paper with a telephone number scribbled on it. “I get off at 3, call me and I'll get _ you _ off.”

The man winked and left a dumbfounded Mickey who didn't know how to behave, what to say.

“ Mick, he's hot. You should totally tap that ass,” Ian said, nudging Mickey. The dark haired man rolled his eyes.

“ Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He gulped down his beer and he knew he craved another already. The blood alcohol level was nowhere near enough what he needed to get by for that night. Somebody had already called him ‘honey’ and had thought Ian and him were together, another thought he was gorgeous and wanted to bang him. And it had only been ten minutes!

Ian was sipping at his non alcoholic beverage but called another bartender to bring Mickey another beer. “I'm serious. This could be a nice experience for you. There's no pressure or anything, only you having fun. You just need to let it go a little.”

Surprisingly enough, Mickey nodded. “I know, it's just.. It's hard. I've lived my whole life fearing that… And now…” He shrugged, unable to explain how hard, how complicated it was to change when all he had known was to be scared and ashamed of who he was. But Ian seemed to get that.

“ I know,” he said, resting a hand on Mickey’s knee. It was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but Ian's hand was warm and his fingers long. Mickey decided not to dwell on it and ordered a stronger drink. He needed it.

 

***

 

Mickey was slowly starting to calm down. Ian was glad. He had been worried he'd made a terrible mistake by bringing him there. He was aware it was a lot to take in for someone like Mickey. Ian was actually proud of him. He hadn't run away and he hadn't started throwing punches around. It was a damn good result for the moment.

Ian wanted Mickey to have a good time, experience something nice in regards to his sexuality. It didn't really matter about getting laid or anything. Mickey deserved to have fun and solidify his newborn confidence.

“ You like the music?” Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged. “Not my kind, but I guess it has a nice rhythm.”

Ian smiled. “So, how about we go and dance a little?”

Mickey, who was emptying his last drink, sputtered all over the counter-top. “Excuse me?”

Ian laughed at Mickey’s scandalized expression. “Dance, you know? Moving our limbs on the dance floor? Even just nodding at rhythm is cool.”

The shorter man looked at Ian as if he had told him to put a tutu on. “No fucking way! You seen me? I don't fucking dance.”

“ I do.”

“ Yeah, well. Good for you, twink. Go shake your booty away from me,” Mickey grumbled.

But Ian was having none of it. He leaned closer to Mickey, a serious expression showing on his face. “Now listen. I know what's going on in that head of yours. Something like ‘real men don't dance’ or some homophobic shit. Let me tell you, it's not true.”

Mickey sighed. “Man, I get that. But I really don't like to dance."

“ Why? You tried  dancing before?”

“ No, but-”

“ Then how can you tell?” Ian's lips split into a mischievous grin. “C'mon.”

He didn't leave any room for Mickey to argue because he took the shorter man by the hand and dragged him onto the dancefloor. Mickey tried detaching himself, but Ian's grip was strong and determined.

“ If you don't like it after the first ten minutes, you can go and drink by yourself at the bar, promise,” Ian said once they were in the middle of the crowd. He had to shout in Mickey’s ear to let him hear.

Mickey looked dubious, but nodded anyway. “Ten minutes, then I'm gone.”

“ If you don't have fun,” Ian conceded.

And the game was on.

As expected, Mickey was only moving his head. A little movement in the right foot too. But Ian loved dancing. His movements were fluid and gracious, with that strong touch of lasciviousness able to make a man's blood rush to his crotch.

“ You, uh, move well,” Mickey muttered. It was easy to see that the shorter man was enthralled by Ian's slow movements.

“ I know,” Ian replied without false modesty. “I earned my bread dancing when I was still a teen.”

Mickey followed Ian's nodding towards the go-go boys in the pedestals. “You serious?”

“ Yep. I always got awesome tips.”

Mickey shook his head, amused. And a little impressed too. And also…

“ You wear those shorts too?” he chuckled, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“ Uh huh. All sparkly and shit. I was a real twink back then.”

“ You're still a damn twink now,” Mickey smiled, earning a playful shove against the shoulder by Ian.

Ten minutes approached and passed. Mickey didn't leave the dancefloor and Ian avoided saying anything about it. He didn't want to scare the other man away.

Mickey was still as loose as a piece of wood, but he was getting in the mood. They weren't touching, but when a man blatantly checked Ian out, the redhead came closer to Mickey, resting a hand on his lower back, just to make the other man know he was with someone. ‘Cause Ian was with Mickey that night, it was Mickey’s moment and Ian only wanted the spotlight on his friend. Mickey didn't need to see Ian being the centre of attention, it was his turn now. That was also the reason why Ian removed his hand from Mickey the moment someone had seemed to take notice of the shorter man. Ian thought he heard Mickey whine when he had detached from him.

A bearded brunet, as tall as Ian, closed his distance from Mickey and started dancing. Well, more sensually rolling his hips. Mickey hadn't noticed at first, but when the man bumped a bit into him, he jumped from the shock.

“ What the fuck!” Mickey shouted, but he wasn't heard from many because of the music. The taller brunet simply smiled at him.

“ Hi,” he greeted. Ian took the situation in hand and waved at the new arrival to join them. The brunet didn't lose a beat. He put himself close to Mickey, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

“ I think he's interested in you,” Ian said in Mickey’s ear. Mickey only looked at him, unbelieving. Yet, a second glance to the clearly interested man, made him change his mind. Mickey didn't try to get closer or touch the man, but he didn't try to shove him away either.

The music followed a new track and even Mickey started to get the hang of it. He was trying to follow the two other men's movement and Ian couldn't help but think that he was endearingly cute. Like a puppy taking its first steps. The other man wasn't too handsy, and that was good, even if he tried to cop a feel from time to time, following the sound of the track playing. Mickey, at first reluctant, was seeming to enjoy the three-person dance.

That was when Ian decided to take himself out of the equation. If he stayed there with him, he would've ruined Mickey's night out for sure. Mickey didn't really want to spend the whole time with his fitness instructor.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Ian said to Mickey, mimicking the gesture of drinking to make himself understood. Mickey nodded and made a hint of following the redhead to the bar, but Ian stopped him. "Have fun, Mick!"

The tall brunet appeared all too eager of having free reign and was quick at positioning himself behind Mickey, both hands on the shorter man's hips. That was the last thing Ian saw before turning his towards the bar.

He got a view of Mickey once he was sitting on a stool, sipping on his first and last cold beer for the night. The brunet was clearly grinding against Mickey's ass and Mickey seemed quite okay with it. He had his eyes half closed, moving and rolling his hips following the rhythm.

Ian didn't lose sight of Mickey, remaining seated on the stool with his back against the bar, his elbows resting on it. The dark haired man looked so much different from the rough, dirty thug Ian had first met. The way he was moving in sync with the other man was captivating. Mickey was relaxing and so were his movements, now slower and fluid.

Ian noticed that Mickey was biting his bottom lip. But it wasn't because of nervousness, a gesture Ian had learnt to spot, that was a sign of arousal. The other man had his hands still on Mickey’s hips and he was clearly grinding against the shorter man's ass. And Mickey was liking it. Ian knew the man; Mickey wouldn't have hesitated kicking the brunet’s ass otherwise.

Ian wasn't the only one finding Mickey’s expression sexy. Another man, tanned and blond, positioned himself in front of Mickey, sandwiching Ian's pupil. Mickey opened his eyes, surprised at the new addition, but the man leaned in and whispered something to him. And Mickey blushed. With his cheeks so smooth and pale the color red was easy to spot. Mickey nodded and didn't move away from his human cage.

Mickey didn't close his eyes again, though. Not immediately. His dark blue eyes scanned the crowd, until they raised up and met Ian's green ones. Ian felt something warm in the pit of his belly and smiled at the other man. Then Mickey closed his eyelids while slightly parting his lips, maybe emitting a moan because of some nice thrust from either of the two men.

Ian lost his feeling of warmth, staring at the way Mickey seemed to be enjoying his two partners.

“ I think that one is otherwise occupied, handsome. But I'm free,” a man said to Ian, leaning closer to the redhead. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Ian spared a glance at the man. He was rather good looking, a streak of white hair starting from his temple.

“ No thanks,” Ian replied. Yet he felt the need to add “That one is a friend of mine, by the way. I brought him here to have a good time.”

The man chuckled. “He's having fun, alright. But you don't seem to be so happy about it.”

Ian was once again looking at Mickey. “Why shouldn't I be?”

“ Because you seem more... jealous.”

“ I'm not,” Ian snapped. He glanced again at the man, who was smiling viciously.

“ Then have a drink with me.”

“ Oh, fuck off,” Ian replied. He turned his head again to Mickey. Jealous of Mickey? Please. He'd seen the man fat and smelly, he'd helped him clean that unsanitary dump he called home. He wasn't jealous, he was happy for Mickey, if anything. Okay, maybe he'd have liked to spend more time with Mickey on the dance floor, but he wasn't-

The brunet who had been standing behind Mickey left. The blond leant once again and said something to his friend, waving towards the restrooms. Mickey seemed taken aback but then nodded.

That was it.

Ian climbed down from the stool and bee-lined for the two men planning on getting it on in the fucking bathroom.

After shoving and pushing sweaty bodies out of the way, he finally managed to grab Mickey’s bicep.

“ Hey,” Ian said.

Mickey looked at him, confused. “Hey, I was just…”

“ Wanna join us?” the blond interrupted after having checked Ian out. Both Ian and Mickey grimaced at his words.

“ No thanks,” Ian replied. His attention was only focused on Mickey. “It's getting late, Mick. I'm tired, can we go? Promise I'll bring you here again.”

Mickey spared a glance at the blond guy, then nodded. “Sure. I'm tired too.”

Ian smiled. Mickey didn't even look a bit hesitant at leaving his sure lay for the night. He actually seemed glad to leave with Ian.

“ Okay, then. Let's go.” Ian took Mickey by the hand, heading towards the exit.

 

***

 

The ride home was quiet. The streets were empty and Ian, usually the talkative one, kept silent.

Ian's mind was instead in the middle of chaos. He couldn't believe himself. He had dragged Mickey out of the club, even if with the man's consent. Because he didn't want Mickey to go with that man in the bathroom. Because Mickey’s expression couldn't leave his mind, that lip biting, eyes closed, sexy expression.

Ian pulled up, knowing he was supposed to just give Mickey a lift and then go home. But he didn't really want the night to end yet.

“ Huh…” Mickey was fiddling with his seatbelt. “Wanna come up? I know it's late, but I'm not that sleepy now… you can crash on the couch if you want. At least you don't have to drive for another half-hour so-”

“ Yeah, sure,” Ian couldn't be too fast to reply.

Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said yes, not with the mess his mind was in. What Ian didn't know, was that Mickey’s thoughts were racing as well.

 

***

 

In less than a week Eddie has asked him out and now he had danced in a fucking gay club with not one, but two guys who clearly wanted to fuck him. And, oh right, also the bartender had left him his number. Mickey’s mind was in overload.

So Mickey decided to put the blame on that and his mild drunkenness for his decision of inviting Ian up.

It was fine, right? Not like Ian had never been into his apartment, he had fucking helped him clean out cockroaches, for fuck’s sake.

Yet this time felt somewhat different. Ian's eyes were more intense, a shade darker. Mickey couldn't shake from his mind the moment when he'd been dancing and their eyes had met, how every sensation from that moment on had felt enhanced.

Mickey’s heart was pounding so strongly against his ribcage when he opened the front door to his house. He almost feared that Ian would hear the beating.

“ We could, uh, watch something?” Mickey suggested. He scratched at his nose.

“ Sure,” Ian replied, pocketing his hands in his jeans.

They were both looking everywhere but at each other.

“ Okay, I'll drink something first, I'm thirsty. You know, on the dancefloor…” Mickey muttered, heading to the kitchen. He was rummaging through the fridge to get himself a beer, when Ian came to stand behind him.

“ Get me a water?”

Mickey froze in his bent position for a second, before nodding and grabbing a bottle of water.

“ Here,” he said, straightening up and giving the bottle to the redhead. Their fingers brushed lightly against one another and a shiver ran through his spine.

“ Thanks.”

Ian's voice sounded so low and Mickey bit his bottom lip. They were so close to each other and Mickey had his back practically against the fridge. Yet he didn't feel cornered, he wasn't forced into that position, he _ wanted _ to be there. He wanted to be even closer to Ian. Pressed against him. Having his chest touching his own.

Ian stepped closer. Mickey caught his breath and raised his eyes up. Blue meeting green and yet they seemed of the same color, so dark they had become. Mickey’s pupils lowered to Ian's lips.

_ Taste _ them.

_ Bite _ them.

Meeting them halfway when Ian closed his eyes and leant down to kiss him.

The kiss was quick, lips pressing against one another, and Ian pulled back almost immediately. But it managed to shock Mickey’s every fiber, rendering him only able to part his lips.

“ I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that…” Ian murmured, but his tone lacked of conviction. He moved a foot back, in a gesture of distancing himself from Mickey, but the shorter man didn't even give him a chance. Mickey closed the few inches they had between them by hooking both his hands around Ian's neck and pursued the redhead’s lips, smashing them against his own.

Ian responded enthusiastically at the feel, moving ahead and pushing Mickey against the fridge, cupping his face between his own palms. Mickey groaned at the touch, letting himself be transported by that kiss, parting his lips to welcome Ian's tongue, meeting it with his own.

Mickey had hardly kissed anyone before; he had let some girls kiss him more out of duty than pleasure and that was it. Until now, with Ian. The shorter man was feeling so good for the first time by just this duel of tongues, his knees weak and his blood rushing through the veins.

He wanted more. No, he _ needed _ more. Whatever Ian could give him he'd take.

Still, he hadn't expected the redhead to lift him up high enough to have him on the counter, legs spread out for him to stand in the middle. But Mickey loved it. He wrapped his legs around Ian's thighs, never detaching from those beautiful lips for too long than a second.

“ Uhn…” Mickey moaned, he wasn't able to keep it quiet. But how could he? Why should he?

Ian interrupted the kiss only to put his lips on the other man's neck, open mouthed kisses that  turned Mickey on so much. Him being open legged also allowed Ian to grind against his crotch, creating that nice, unbearable friction that made them crave more.

Fuck, Mickey was inexperienced with that much intensity. He was inexperienced with the whole making-out thing. He only knew he was painfully hard and that Ian was too. And that yes, he could feel Ian's boner rubbing against his own and it was so good he wanted to cry. He instead lowered his hands, pressing them against Ian's pert ass to pull him closer.

“ Mick… fuck,” Ian gasped at that move, his mouth still on the other's neck. To think Mickey had hated hearing that nickname from him, now just the word made his head spin and his heart flutter.

It was all too much, too fucking much. They went from zero to one hundred in a few minutes and Mickey wanted them to continue, he wanted to keep on feeling so fucking much. He couldn't come just yet, not with his fucking pants on, climaxing like a teenager.

"B-Bed..." Mickey stuttered, getting back to kissing Ian's mouth. Ian nodded eagerly. He helped Mickey climb down from the counter and then took him by the hand, just like he had done at the club, this time heading for the bedroom. The room was messy but clean and Ian shoved Mickey on the bed, starting tearing off his own clothes standing up in front of the dark haired man.

Mickey had to palm himself, looking at that fucking Adonis stripping furiously, getting naked for him; Ian was quick in taking off his V-neck and jeans, throwing his shoes somewhere in the room. He had only his boxer briefs on and he looked at Mickey with a playful grin.

"Like what you see?" he asked, playing with the hem of the briefs, causing Mickey to groan in frustration. He knew what Ian looked like shirtless. He needed to see more. But his frustration didn't last for long, because Ian shoved the boxer briefs down in one fast movement and Mickey was finally ready to give his soul to the good Lord. His fitness instructor was big, just as he had suspected. But now, having it bare in front of him in all its glory, Mickey wanted to weep . Ian's cock was fully erect, heavy-looking and leaking. It was hard because of him, because of what they had just done. Mickey felt the urge to just kneel in front of him and suck that beauty dry.

Ian himself snatched him from his reverie.

"You're not naked," Ian observed. He rested one knee on the bed and touched the hem of Mickey's black shirt. He smiled gently. "You don't feel comfortable?"

Ian hit the target. While Mickey didn't seem to have a problem shamelessly ogling Ian's ripped body, licking his lips at his firecrotch, the dark haired man had an issue with getting naked himself. His body had changed in the last seven-to-eight months and it was still changing. But it was still far from a perfect body like Ian's. Not to forget that Ian had seen him when he was fat and soggy, dirty and uncaring. What if-

"Mick, you don't need to feel embarrassed. Please, I don't want you to have a problem with your self-image. Not when you can see that I'm hard just by looking at you," Ian said, moving up the bed and he didn't wait for Mickey's permission to unbutton his shirt. He licked and kissed Mickey's skin, from the neck, to his pectorals, to his abdomen. His belly was far from a six-pack, but it was hard under that apparent softness and Ian took his time gently biting at it, while Mickey finished taking off the shirt.

"You're getting such a good body," Ian remarked, his fingers quick to pull down the zip of the jeans that were painfully restraining Mickey's erection. Ian pulled down the clothing slowly at first, until he took notice of something that made him take them off in one go. "Are those... You wearing a thong, Mick?"

Ian's tone was partly amused, but also in awe of that dark blue thong that barely covered Mickey's straining cock. Before Mickey could reply that yes, he was wearing a damn thong because he had discovered how comfortable that minuscule piece of clothing felt, the redhead brushed his fingers on the inside of Mickey's thighs, smiling.

"And you shaved," he added. He leant down, kissing the bare, smooth skin near the thong.

"I waxed," Mickey corrected and had to close his eyes to say it. "My sister tricked me into having a wax a couple months ago and... I dunno, the skin feels nice to touch and, uh, my dick looks bigger..."

Ian raised up his eyes, smiling like a mischievous little kid. "Then we gotta see this dick, don't we," he said and he didn't wait any longer before pulling down the thong. Mickey's cock sprung free immediately, close to Ian's face. "Well, I don't know how your dick looks with hair on your groin, but from here I get a really nice view."

Mickey chuckled, but the laughter suddenly turned into a loud moan when Ian went down on him, not losing any time with the licking and teasing, but getting to the good part, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks. Mickey had to open his eyes too see the show. Ian had his mouth stuffed with his dick and he looked gorgeous. The redhead noticed Mickey's stare and pulled back, licking his lips with playful malice. Mickey groaned.

"I like your thighs. I know they're strong. And you're right, it's nice to feel them so smooth," Ian said, moving his hands on Mickey's thighs, then his groin. Mickey shuddered at the feeling of those warm, long fingers on his skin. He so needed to feel them more.

"Turn around."

Mickey held Ian's eyes for a few moments at the younger man's words, but then complied. He turned around and Ian helped him to take position, placing a pillow under his groin, and making him raise his hips a bit. Mickey was feeling tense.

Then Ian bit one ass cheek.

“ What the fuck!” Mickey shouted, turning his head at Ian’s direction. The redhead smiled and kissed the bite mark. Okay, that was better.

“ Sorry, Mick. I just had to do it.” Ian rested both his hands on Mickey’s pale globes. “I’m so proud of your ass. Glad I made you do so many squats now.”

Ian chuckled and Mickey joined too, but truth was, the dark haired man was pretty glad too. The real reason behind his new choice of underwear was that his ass looked pretty nice with just a string trapped in its crack. And he would be lying to himself if he couldn’t admit that when watching himself in the mirror, he’d never imagined another man’s touch on him, fondling his butt to his pleasure.

And now…

Ian squeezed his ass cheeks once more. “From what we talked about, that time… You like to bottom, don’t you?”

Mickey had to avoid Ian’s stare in order to speak freely. “I think so. I’ve never… huh…”

“ Oh shit, it’s true,” Ian muttered. “This is gonna be your first time. Are you sure you want to?”

There was something in that finality, the genuineness, that made Mickey less bashful. It was gonna happen. Mickey felt goosebumps all over his skin at the thought.

“ Yes.”

Ian smiled. “Then give me the lube.”

All Mickey could do was nod and he moved just as much as he needed to retrieve the lube from the drawer. He tossed it to the redhead, without looking back. “Got no condoms, though.”

He didn’t have any because he’d never thought, despite all his fantasies, that that night he would have had Ian in his bed. Naked. And ready to fuck him. Fuck. _ Fuck _ !

“ Got one, don’t worry,” Ian answered. Before Mickey could think anything about Ian being always ready with a condom, the redhead kissed him on the nape and then left a trail of wet, skin burning kisses down his back to his ass.

And then there was another kiss, and the pressure of Ian's sinful tongue between Mickey’s ass cheeks. Mickey suddenly became a sobbing mess under the rim job Ian was giving him.

“ Fuck. Fucking… ‘s good…” Mickey murmured, pushing his ass against Ian's face on pure instinct.

Ian grinned and removed his tongue to replace it with a lube slicked finger, pushing it inside carefully. Mickey clenched up immediately at the intrusion.

“ Relax, Mick. Just breathe, okay?” Ian whispered in a soothing tone of voice. Mickey nodded, trying to relax as much as he could. “Good.”

It took a bit for Mickey to adjust, but when he did… oh, boy. He was certainly not new to butt play, but Ian's fingers - _ one, two, three… of, fuck yes _ \- were long and bony and warm. Mickey was now welcoming those fingers inside him, not shy to express it verbally anymore. His cock was leaking so much, aching to come. And when Ian brushed against his prostate, that's what it did. Mickey came, not able to contain himself anymore.

Ian bit again Mickey’s ass and removed his fingers. The other man winced. “You came.”

Mickey scoffed. “No shit.” Mickey had wanted to come with Ian's cock inside him, but he was too blissed out from his orgasm to get disappointed about it. “That was so good.”

“ Of course it was, I got magic fingers,” Ian said. With a chuckle, he flipped Mickey to lay on his back. The shorter man could only observe as Ian straddled him. “Got a magic cock, too.”

Mickey moaned at the sight of Ian's cock. He didn't know about its magic but it was mouth watering for sure. He licked his lips.

“ Wanna suck?” Ian asked. He lightly touched his dick. “You can if you want.”

Hell yeah, he wanted to. Mickey got in a sitting position, while Ian climbed out of bed, his cock bobbing, inviting for the dark haired man to have a taste. Mickey was finally eye level with it when he wrapped his hand around its girth and then moved it along the length, spreading precome to get his hand slicked enough not to cause any discomfort. Swallowing down, Mickey leant forward, tentatively licking it. He closed his eyes at the sensation. It didn't take long before he got bolder and his tongue started lapping from the base to the tip. Ian moaned and entangled his fingers through Mickey’s gelled up hair. That spurred Mickey enough to take it in his mouth.

Fuck.

It was heavy and salty on the tongue. It felt amazing. And the more he tasted that cock, the more aroused he got. Could he be more of a faggot, something in his brain suggested. But right that moment he couldn't give a fuck. It was good and he was getting hard again just by giving head, fuck it.

“ Mhn… Mick. Yes…” Ian rambled, his fingers completely messing up Mickey’s hair. Mickey looked up, to see Ian's rapturous expression. And, God, that view was enough to make his blood rush down to his dick. He forced himself to pull back, but there was something else he wanted. Needed.

“You gotta get on me, man,” Mickey groaned. Ian seemed to share the same desire, because he was quick to climb on the bed again and help the shorter man to lay back. The redhead was on him in one second. He leant down to kiss him and Mickey responded with equal fervor. He spread his legs for Ian, all shame gone because he wanted this too much to even think to care.

“ Just one sec…” Ian got out of bed to retrieve the condom. He was already tearing the wrapping off as he climbed back. On the bed. And on Mickey as well.

The dark haired man groaned in pleasure when their groins touched again. His body was shivering from anticipation and when Ian's tip poked against his hole he was hard again. Fuck, he wanted it so bad he couldn't even form words. He only hooked his ankles at Ian's waist and the redhead got the hint. He pushed inside, slowly but with precision and care, until he bottomed out.

“ Oh, fuck!” Fuck seemed really like the only possible comment Mickey could come up with. It was a feeling like no other. He felt full and complete and it stung and burned, but he'd gladly take any pain if he was rewarded with such pleasure.

“ Yeah, fuck indeed,” Ian smiled at him. “What do you say, can I move?”

Mickey nodded, eagerly. “Just- just get on with it.”

Ian kissed his lips one more time before he started to thrust. He was stretching his hole at each push and Mickey loved it, fuck. It was so intense and when a good thrust hit his sweet spot, Mickey couldn't even recognize his voice anymore, being it so husky and deep.

“ You feeling good?” Ian asked, hinting at slowing down the pace. Mickey didn't let him.

“ Yeah, yeah. Keep going. Hard,” he gasped.

Ian lightly chuckled against his ear and increased the speed, hitting at Mickey’s prostate hard and precise. Mickey could only take it and cry out loud in pleasure.

Then Ian came, filling up the condom and making Mickey whimper. He still continued to move, until the other man clenched around him, coming for the second time. Mickey was tightly wrapped around Ian, but he let go enough for Ian to pull out.

After regaining their breath, Ian laid on one side and smiled down at that boneless lump that was Mickey.

“ I take it you're satisfied?” he asked, trailing one hand on Mickey’s pecs.

“ Can't you see?” Mickey completely and blissfully spent and had a huge smile on his face that disappeared only when he yawned. Ian yawned too. “Wanna sleep here?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I took my last pill of the day before and now I'm fucking sleepy.”

“ You didn't seem so tired five minutes ago,” Mickey said with a smirk.

“ I had other thoughts than sleep in my head,” Ian chuckled. “Now be a good host and turn off the light will ya.”

Mickey did so and positioned himself in a comfortable position. They didn't sleep wrapped up in each other, it was too fucking hot for that. But fuck if Mickey slept sweet dreams that night.

 

***

 

Mickey was woken up by Ian's voice, who was talking on the phone.

“ Huh, at the White Swallow. Yeah, we had fun. I got him home and, we… we ended up having a sleepover at Mickey’s place.”

Mickey had still his eyes closed but couldn't help a smirk to school on his lips. They had a ‘sleepover' alright.

“ I can come by seven? I'll bring food… yeah, yeah. Your favorite. Ohh, shut up, be serious…” Ian lowered his voice down. “I know you want to. We talked about this, Cal. I still don't feel ready now. It's just been two weeks. Yeah, we're back together, but I wanna take things slow. Mh. I know. Yeah… See you later.”

Mickey was wide awake. His heart beating hard in his chest, but for a different reason now. Betrayal? No, _ fear _ . This time the reason was fear. Fear for words that hit hard, and painfully. Pronounced by the same mouth he'd kissed so many times the previous night.

_ Yeah, we’re back together _ .

Mickey’s good mood was _ destroyed _ .

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and now you hate meXD Don't, please?  <3
> 
>  
> 
> NO WAY: I forgot to thank ElfyDwarf, AKA my lovely, adorable beta <3


	9. The boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has a redhead boyfriend.  
> Another redhead isn't too happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see, I think there are only three chapters left :)

The Alibi.   
  
A place for drunkards and unemployed people (which usually went hand in hand) to spend their time and money on cheap drinks and an old pool table. On fights and on tone-deaf songs. On memory loss and on bad memories. The Alibi was **,** really **,** a pub like any other, but for some people in the South Side **,** it was their fucking palace.   
  
Once, Terry Milkovich had owned the place. Not officially, not in name, but everybody there had used to bow to him. He had been the fucking king of the South Side lowlife. His gay son **,** Mickey **,** would've never had the guts to do what he was about to when Terry was still alive. Now instead he was dressed moderately nice, nursing a beer and waiting for his date.   
  
Yes. His fucking date.   
  
Of course Mickey was understandably on edge. They were just going to have a beer and chat, but for someone who had been in the closet for so long, it was still hard to do something so simple. But he was working on that. And the Alibi was him actually trying. 

  
Mickey raised his head to scan the place. Just the usual, harmless patrons and the owners **,** Kev and Vee **,** were present. That relaxed Mickey a little. He didn’t want to catch any undesired attention. Then a flash of red appeared and Mickey waved at the man.   
  
His date approached with a big smile on his face.

  
“I’m not late, am I? I don’t know this area and I took too many wrong turns,” the redhead said, going to sit in front of Mickey. The shorter man waved him off.   
  
“Nah, I had just the time to order a beer. Want one?”   
  
A pair of hazel eyes looked softly at him. Eddie nodded and their third date began.   
  
***   
  
_ Yeah, we’re back together _ . 

  
“What the fuck does that mean?” Mickey snapped. His eyes met Ian's, who seemed startled to see Mickey awake. The redhead had his mouth opened and a stupid face on, good to attract kisses or slaps. Mickey was more inclined towards slaps at that moment.   
  
“Oh, Mick. Fuck. You heard?” Ian asked, the phone clutched in his hand.   
  
“Fuck yeah, I heard!” Mickey growled, at the same time getting up to grab at his clothes. “I heard that you had a sleepover with me and now you're planning on having it with your fucking boyfriend! What the fuck, Ian!”   
  
Ian started to dress too. In their haste they had exchanged their underwear but none of them was even  aware of it. “I can explain, Mickey. I was going to tell you anyway-”   
  
“Then fucking tell me!”   
  
“It's complicated…”   
  
Mickey snickered.   
  
The redhead sighed. “Caleb and I… we go way back. He's one of the magazine’s photographers, we met when I first started there and we hit it off right away. We shared our secrets… well, that I'm bipolar and he's- nothing. The point is that I thought it was fine between us and then it wasn't. He couldn't really deal with my disorder. We broke up last year and… uh… we're back together now. It's just been two weeks and-"   
  
“And you thought, 'why don't I fuck Mickey, to practice a little before the real deal'?,” Mickey snarled. He was going on the attack, even if inside all he really wanted was to sit in a corner and cry. But he'll be damned to let Gallagher see even one tear. 

  
“That’s not true!”   
  
“Then what is it?!” 

  
“I don't know!” Ian shouted. Then took a breath. “I don't know, okay? I'm… I never looked at you that way before. You are my project and my friend. I took you out yesterday to let you have a good time, have fun dancing and getting hit on, but…”   
  
“We fucked,” Mickey supplied with a snicker.   
  
Ian nodded. He had half a smile on his lips. “Yeah. It felt so good, so natural. So fucking unpredictable… I'd have never thought. But it happened.”   
  
“Of course you hadn't. I'm an uneducated thug. I can clean up as much as possible but I'm still scum.” This was old Mickey talking. The one who thought he wasn’t enough for anything. The one his father had created. Mickey knew he shouldn’t say those things. He wasn’t scum. He fucking wasn’t. Scott had told him. Ian had too. And now Ian himself was making him feel like it, yet again.   
  
“What? No! How can you think like that? You're a good person, I _ like _ you. But you're the one I'm training, I shouldn't have done that,” Ian said.   
  
“So you regret it.” Mickey summed it up, feeling a lump in his throat at the thought. He wanted to be realistic, but just by looking at the other man's face he could still feel desire for him. Want. And it hurt, it hurt so fucking much.   
  
“No, I don't!” Ian replied immediately. “I don't, I swear. What happened was… I loved it.”   
  
Mickey sighed, he ran a hand through his messed up hair. “It was my fucking first time, man.”   
  
“I know. And if I didn't have Cal to think about…”   
  
“Don't you dare throw your damn boyfriend into this conversation,” Mickey snarled.   
  
“But he is part of it. We haven't even had sex yet and then you and I… I cannot think of it as two separate things.” Ian looked at the ceiling, as if it could give him the answers to his problems.   
  
“Then just tell me what you wanna do!” Mickey exclaimed, exasperated. It was pathetic, he was aware, but he couldn't help hoping that after one night together Ian would choose him.   
  
Ian looked at him, his eyes seemed lost. “I don't know, Mick. I made so many rushed choices in the past. I need to think about it. I can't just-"   
  
“Don't.” Mickey raised one hand in a gesture of stopping the redhead. “Just don't, okay? You think I'm gonna wait for your uncertain ass like some bitch? Fuck no!”   
  
Something in Mickey wanted to scream _ yes I'll wait, choose me! _ But Mickey wouldn't be caught dead acting so pliant. He liked having his groin waxed, but still he had fucking pride. Actually, he didn't even know what he wanted from Ian himself. He was aware he'd been attracted to the redhead from day one, but he'd never thought they'd ended up having sex. Now that they had, whatever option they may have had was taken away by a small detail: Ian had forgotten to mention _ he had a fucking boyfriend _ .   
  
Ian looked hurt at those words. What right did he have to look that way? He wasn't a ginger puppy that had dropped the milk. He was an adult who had basically cheated on two people and now got sad because one of them was angry about it.   
  
“Mick-" Ian started. But Mickey shook his head.   
  
“Just get the hell out of here. And don't fucking call me like that, it disgusts me,” he said, refusing to stare at Ian in the eyes. Mickey’s blue ones were fixed on the floor.   
  
Ian remained in silence until he nodded. “I understand…”   
  
He grabbed his remaining clothes and left without arguing anymore. Mickey didn't raise his eyes until he heard the door slam. It was only after that moment that he walked quickly towards the nearby wall and punched it with as much force as he could muster.   
  
“Fuck!” he shouted. And if tears started falling down, it was only because of the pain in his hand.    
  
***   
  
Eddie looked around. Mickey could only imagine what he was thinking: the Alibi was a dump. It smelled of old beer and cheap detergent that couldn’t really remove the stench of vomit. But it was still a place Mickey was fond of and he wouldn’t accept his date talking shit about it.   
  
“So this is the place you grew up in?” Eddie said, returning his gaze on Mickey. There was no trace of disgust in his voice.   
  
“Eh, here and the rest of the South Side,” Mickey explained. “I told you it’s nothing that great.”   
  
But Eddie shook his head. “I have to disagree, Mickey. It’s vintage. I like it.”   
  
“Vintage? This dump?” Mickey chuckled. Okay, he could call it a dump, alright? He was entitled.   
  
Vee didn't seem to share his thoughts, because she slapped the back of his head. At the same time she placed a glass of cold beer in front of Eddie. “First, Mickey go fuck yourself. Second, who are you, Gingerbread?”   
  
Mickey tensed all of a sudden. He had already told Eddie that he wasn't out. He had just accepted being gay, he wasn't ready to blurt it out to everyone. Especially not in the South Side. Eddie had seemed to understand, but Mickey didn't want to take a chance.   
  
“He's from the magazine. He interviews me for his boss,” Mickey supplied for him. Eddie frowned, but then nodded.   
  
“Yeah, I'm Eddie, by the way,” he stretched out his hand to shake Vee’s. The woman settled **,** instead **,** for a pat on the back.   
  
“You work for Jasmine? Damn! I love that woman. Is she a hardass like she looks?”   
  
Eddie chuckled. “She can be tough but she's a good boss.”   
  
Vee nodded. “Got it. So, you doing an interview right now? You should ask us too. I could tell you some juicy details about Milkovich here, and his wild drunken adventures.”   
  
Mickey groaned but Eddie seemed already on board. “Oh, I'd love to hear them!”   
  
Mickey sent a death glare to him, but Eddie just shrugged. It was clear that his interest in Mickey’s wild drunken adventures was not purely for the sake of his job. Vee sat close to Eddie, shouted at Kev to manage alone for five minutes and then started blabbering stories about Mickey and his good for nothing brothers for a good half an hour. By the time she finished, Eddie knew about the time Mickey had performed Singin’ in the Rain under a starry night, and about some of his fights. Mickey just wanted to run away, but at the same time he couldn't really leave his date alone with Vee.    
  
Eddie was laughing. “Oh, Mick. You must be amazing when drunk,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye with his forefinger. Fucker was having fun.   
  
“Why, am I not amazing, usually?” Mickey feigned to be offended, but he had a playful smirk on his lips.   
  
But Eddie didn't get the joke. “No, of course not!” he said immediately, a little flustered on his face. “You're always amazing…” he muttered, lowering his gaze once he'd noticed Vee and Mickey’s surprised expressions.   
  
Mickey was also red-cheeked now. He hadn't expected such a declaration of his ‘amazingness’ from the redhead. Especially in front of Vee.    
  
The woman licked her lips, like a cat with a mouse and opened her mouth to talk, but someone else entered the conversation.   
  
“Hey! You're Mickey, right? Mickey Milkovich.”   
  
The three at the table turned around to see a kid of about fifteen looking down at Mickey. He had short, curly dark hair and dark skin, a big smile on his face.   
  
Mickey frowned. “And who the fuck are you?”   
  
“This is Liam Gallagher,” Vee said, bumping her fist against the boy's abdomen. “Your instructor’s baby brother.”   
  
Mickey looked surprised at the tall kid, who didn't look one bit like his brother. But then, something in his expression, in that captivating smile… Yeah, he was definitely Ian's little brother. Ian. It had been two weeks since they had fought and they hadn't seen each other yet. Since Mickey was exercising anyway, Ian's presence wasn't mandatory. Not seeing the redhead had been both a relief and a disappointment.   
  
“Hi, are you a pain in the ass just like your brother?” Mickey asked, just to remember the second later that Ian had been estranged from his family for more than ten years, and all for his feelings of guilt towards this young boy in front of Mickey. 

  
But Liam surprised him. “Hey, my brother's not a pain in the ass. He's tough, but he has to be,” he was quick to defend Ian. “And I follow the program, you were the pain in the ass at the beginning.”   
  
Mickey rolled his eyes, while Eddie chuckled together with Vee.   
  
“Fucking brat,” Mickey spat, but without anger. He was actually amused by the kid who showed no fear insulting someone with FUCK U-UP tattoos on his knuckles. But then, it was also true that the kid had watched him struggle with jumping jacks at the beginning of the program, thanks to Alec’s videos. Or him laying on the ground like a beached whale with asthma. Or always him falling on his ass during a kickboxing session… Fuck, those videos were embarrassing as hell, Mickey could only hope his brothers would never find them.   
  
Liam observed Mickey for a few seconds before asking Vee “Could I have a beer?”   
  
Vee frowned, but Liam was biting his bottom lip nervously. It was easy to understand that the kid wanted to talk to Mickey. She nodded. “Sure, kid. A beer coming right up.”   
  
Eddie leaned close to Mickey and whispered “I don't think he's legal to drink.”   
  
Mickey looked at the guy in disbelief and laughed in his face. “Eddie, here there’s no legal age for anything.”   
  
Eddie seemed confused, but nodded anyway. “Oh, got it.”   
  
In the meantime, Liam had taken a seat in front of Mickey, not bothering with sending Eddie away.  He ran a hand through his curly hair. “Listen, uh… how's Ian? I haven't seen him in a while and I was wondering…”   
  
Mickey felt a rush of pity in his thug heart for the kid. 'A while' his ass. But it was clear that Liam wasn't looking for sympathy; he was genuinely interested in knowing about his older brother's well-being.

  
“He's… good I guess,” Mickey said, while his brain was thinking something else. Fucked me good and hard, popped my cherry, when he had a fucking boyfriend all along, that cheating bastard, but he's fine, yeah. “He's always nagging about doing the exercises to perfection and he can run for miles without breaking a sweat.”  
  
Liam smiled. “Yeah, he's strong and fast. My oldest brother Lip told me he can shoot too.”  
  
Mickey nodded. They had gone to a shooting range once, the last month, just to have fun. “I got a better aim, though.” Not true. Ian was fucking precise, not to mention he looked so fucking good with a gun in his hands.  
  
“Nah, I'm sure Ian's better,” Liam said without a doubt in his voice. That made Mickey snort.  
  
“What? Ian your hero or something?” he asked, smirking. Liam blushed.  
  
“He's my big brother. I was just saying,” the kid muttered.  
  
“I know Ian, and you're right, he's cool,” Eddie added, probably to make the teen feel less embarrassed for his awe towards his brother. Liam seemed happy about it  
  
“You know him too? That's great!”  
  
Eddie and Liam soon got involved in an Ian-centric conversation. Just what Mickey needed to hear. The guy he was seeing speaking so highly of the guy Mickey had slept with and gotten rejected by. The best, really. Mickey tried to detach himself as much as possible from the conversation and thanked Vee with his eyes when she came back with a beer for Liam and another for him. A break, finally.  
  
After another 10 minutes, Liam had to go to his baseball practice and left the two lovebirds alone. Mickey decided it was time it was just the two of them, really.  
  
“So, wanna come to my place?” Mickey proposed, a mischievous smirk on his lips. He obtained the desired reaction. 

  
“Yeah, sure!” Eddie started nodding with conviction and was already standing up, watching Mickey like an eager puppy.   
  
The older man snorted and got up too. He threw a few bucks on the table and headed for the door, feeling Eddie's heated stare on his back.   
  
Only once the two men were out of her hair, Vee slapped Kev’s butt with a damp towel. She was grinning **.**   
  
“See? What I tell you? I bet whatever you want, those two are going to get down and dirty,” she nodded to herself.   
  
Kev looked surprised. “With the redhead? He looks so nice. I thought his type was like big and hairy and covered by tattoos… I don't know, like a biker, or something.”   
  
Vee shook her head, knowingly. “Nah. He likes them pretty. And I think he likes ‘em redheaded too…”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
She shrugged. “Just a hunch. But you know what? I'd really like if Mickey could just tell us. Every time we have to walk on fucking eggshells. He likes dicks and it's clear as the sun, so just tell us already!”   
  
“He'll come out when he's ready, Vee,” he sighed.   
  
Vee shoved him by the arm, laughing. “Ha! Look at my baby, being all wise and shit!”   
  
Her husband giggled and accepted a kiss from her. Vee had always suspected Mickey’s sexuality, but it had been only after Mickey had gotten involved with the magazine that Kevin started to agree. Now they were only waiting for Mickey’s coming out to them. They didn't know when that would happen, so in the meantime they could only wait.   
  
Oh, and talk shit about him and his future boyfriends, of course.   
  
***   
  
Eddie collapsed on top of Mickey with a breathy groan. The dark haired man let out a chuckle and playfully shoved Eddie away.   
  
Mickey was sweaty from the summer heat and the sex. He ran a hand through his messed up hair and took his time to regain his normal breathing.   
  
“See? I'm _ too _ helping you exercise,” Eddie joked. Mickey gave him the finger.   
  
“I’m helping _ you _ , if anything. You got no stamina, kid.” It was nice, just having a laugh, teasing Eddie.   
  
The redhead laughed and leant down to softly kiss Mickey’s temple. “I got you off, my stamina is good enough.”   
  
Mickey rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yeah, yeah. You're good, don't you worry.”   
  
Eddie thanked the praising with a smile. He was about to say something when Mickey’s phone started buzzing. Mickey groaned, recognizing the ringtone. Mandy. He had to go to work at the garage shop in about an hour and he wanted to spend it rolling in bed some more, not talking to his sister.   
  
With a tentative hand he reached for the phone. He got up to answer, giving his back to Eddie.   
  
“What,” he greeted his beloved sister.   
  
“Hello to you too, dickbreath,” replied Mandy. Since he had kind of sucked a dick ten minutes before, he couldn't really say anything witty back.   
  
“Well, what's the matter?”   
  
He heard Mandy huffing. “I just wanted to make sure you remember we're meeting to go shopping this Saturday.”   
  
Mickey rolled his eyes. Of course, now that he was her gay brother and all, in her opinion he should be a shopaholic just like her.   
  
Well, she wasn't that far from the truth. He kind of liked buying new clothes now that they actually fit. He would never admit it out loud, though.   
  
“Before you come to bed, could you grab a bottle of water?” Eddie asked and Mickey’s heart skipped a beat. Had Mandy heard him? He jumped on the bed and pushed a hand against Eddie's mouth anyway, to prevent him from speaking again.   
  
“Mick! Is that… fucking... YOU GOT A MAN IN YOUR BED?” Mandy was screaming like an eagle. Yeah, she had definitely heard. “No fucking way!”   
  
Mickey had to distance the phone from his ear, for the sake of the eardrum. This was so not the way he wanted Mandy to know. Fucking fuck. Mickey sent a death glare to Eddie, who hid under the sheets. He was so going to beat him up.    
  
“Yeah, huh. About that…” Mickey muttered, scratching his nose.   
  
“You've got a man! In your bed!”   
  
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Thanks for making me notice.”   
  
“Oh my god, Mick! Fucking finally!”   
  
Okay, Mickey was going to murder his sister in her sleep. Just wait.   
  
“Listen, you going to say something I don't already know or…?”   
  
“Okay, I'm calm now.” Mandy sighed. “But, really. This is huge for you and… no, wait. Do I know the guy?”   
  
Fuck. Mickey braced himself for his sister howling again in his ear. He was going to be deaf prematurely. He glanced at the lump in his bed. “It's Eddie…”   
  
“Eddie the assistant? The pretty ginger? Oh, good for you, Mick!” she shouted. He winced at her high tone of voice. “I was so sure you had the hots for Ian… I half-guessed right, he's still a redhead.”   
  
Mickey didn't reply. He didn't even want to think about Ian in that moment, not when he had someone in his bed, and he'd been laughing. It had been two weeks since... And it still hurt.   
  
“Why haven't you told me?” Mandy spoke again.   
  
“Because I wanted to tell you in person,” and it was true. Ever since he had come out to her, he had decided that he wouldn't keep another secret like that from his sister. It wasn't worth it. Plus he had discovered he actually felt better talking to her.   
  
“Got it,” she said, understanding. She was believing him, good. “So I guess we'll talk a bit in between shopping. There's this nice new place I wanna try-"   
  
“Yeah, whatever,” he interrupted her. A freckled hand had appeared from under the sheets and was massaging his thighs. He bit his bottom lip.   
  
“Okay then. You know, I still don't get this. Is everyone at Fair a homo? Jasmine checked me out, then Scott and Ian and now Eddie? The fuck?” Mandy continued talking, oblivious to where Eddie's hand was going on her brother's naked body. Mickey so needed to hang up on her.   
  
“The cameraman’s straight.”   
  
“Uh-huh, good to know,” she chuckled.   
  
Eddie was approaching his cock. Yeah, he wasn't talking with his sister during a handjob. “Not giving his number. You're better than that, you don't need to find a man, you're awesome just like that.”   
  
With these little words of wisdom, Mickey hung up in his sister.   
  
“You know, I'm still gonna kick your ass,” Mickey told Eddie, but then he went to struggle with the guy. He pulled down the sheets, revealing a giggling redhead, who placed both his hands on Mickey’s waist.   
  
“What's fair is fair.” Then he grinned, lifting his hips to brush their cocks together, still divided by the sheets. “After?”   
  
Mickey snorted, but agreed. “After.”   
  
He leant down to kiss Eddie. Yeah, first fuck, then he'd kick his ass.   
  
***   
  
Alec thought he was filming a western movie. One of the moments where the two gunmen just look at each other, ready to shoot. The only thing missing were the tumbleweeds rolling as a background.   
  
Butch Gallagher and the Sundance Mick were having a competition of who could stare harder without actually talking to the other. They appeared to be on a tie. Alec was surprised by the new development; ever since they had made peace or whatever had happened between those two, they'd been inseparable. Like, really good friends. Now they had reverted to before. No, even worse; this was on a Cold War level shit.

  
Mickey was doing his pull ups looking at Ian and the redhead was standing up next to him, staring accordingly.   
  
Alec had already asked both of them how they were doing, to try to chill the air, try to make them comfortable. All he had managed to get had been a grunt from Mickey and a constipated ‘fine!’ from Ian. He had decided to let them be for a while, but now the silence was unbearable. Alec was a cameraman, if he'd wanted to film such a uneventful scene, he would've worked for the National Geographic, chasing a sloth sleeping on a branch.   
  
So why not spice things up a bit?   
  
Little did Alex know, but he was going to cause a thunderstorm.   
  
“Ay, Mickey. I heard you and that Eddie kid are together now?”   
  
Mickey stopped mid exercise and Ian's clenched jaw now opened as if there were no bones there.   
  
“We're just seeing each other…” Mickey grumbled.   
  
“What!” Ian exclaimed at the same time.   
  
They stared at each other for a second, before Ian repeated again.   
  
“What!”   
  
“Yeah, I know, right?” Alec completely misinterpreted Ian's shocked reaction to simple surprise at the unexpected news. “They make a cute couple, though. Like, in a very strange, creepy kind of way cute.” 

  
Mickey flipped him off, but his attention seemed focused on the redhead. Ian had his mouth open to say something but he was refraining. Alec knew Ian was gay too, so he didn't let himself dwell on Ian's weird behaviour, he wasn't going to start a fight.

  
Still, Alec's effort to finally start a conversation between the two failed miserably. Actually, the present situation was even worse than before. They put some more distance between them and they still weren't talking. Ian seemed to burn holes into Mickey, who in exchange was avoiding looking at his instructor at all costs.   
  
Really, all Alec wanted to do was go home. The material he'd gathered so far was shit, completely unusable, unless viewers appreciated a three hour silent gym session. He was also supposed to cut out the part when he'd talked about Mickey’s involvement with Eddie and without the intermezzo it was really all silence. Boring as hell. Yeah he had been stupid enough to agree with Mickey and Ian's requests of not including anything that could suggest Mickey’s sexuality, at least for the moment. Mickey wanted to come out on his own terms and Alec was kind of a pushover. The result had been My Fair losing pretty interesting pieces and now Alex having to cut out the only part where they talked.   
  
So, once the three came back to Mickey’s apartment, Alec came out with an excuse to leave those two and go tape something funnier. The excuse was lame, something about forgetting a pie in the oven, but Alec didn't care. As soon as the sun-rays hit his face when he got out of the building, he smiled and sighed with relief.   
  
***   
  
Ian waited until Alec had taken the elevator to cause all hell to break loose.   
  
“What the fuck? Eddie?” he shouted, not even trying to start in a calm, diplomatic way. Mickey rolled his eyes. He'd expected such reaction. He'd feared it. And yet, at the same time… he'd hoped for it. Mickey had been even more scared of the possibility of Ian smiling and approving of Eddie. That would've been another stab to his heart.   
  
Mickey shrugged, feigning a blasé attitude. He didn't know what he was fishing for, but he wanted to see more of Ian's fury. “What about him?”   
  
Ian looked at him in disbelief. “What about- The fuck, Mick? Eddie?”   
  
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Mickey sighed.   
  
Ian was not amused. “You can't be serious… I mean, after we-” He shook his head and changed the question. “Why Eddie?”   
  
Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Really? For one, I was free and he was too. You know, without an unmentioned boyfriend like some other redhead.”   
  
Was Ian able to feel the strong, absolutely not hidden sarcasm? Definitely. “I didn't do that on purpose! I was… we were taken by the moment!”   
  
Mickey scoffed and came closer, showing a menacing aura around him.“Don't you dare pin this on me too, Ian. I can give you the beginning, but you could've remembered about your fucking Cal between kissing and thrusting your dick up my ass!”   
  
Ian bit his lip. Mickey knew he had hit him in the right spot because his eyes seemed to lose their anger. “I'm sorry, Mick. I really am. I never meant to hurt you. It just-”   
  
“Happened? Yeah, like that can make anything better with your lame ass excuse. You made me feel like shit!”   
  
“I felt like shit too!”   
  
“Cause you're a piece of shit!” Mickey shouted back. He was close enough now to be able to poke his finger hard against Ian's chest. So he did. “Now you're all shocked about Eddie? Why? There's nothing wrong about him. He's nice, _ available _ , and he gives it to me good. And hard. And I fucking like it.”   
  
Ian's eyes widened at Mickey’s last words. And the shorter man felt a jolt of pleasure, he wanted to feel able to shock Ian, to hurt him, even just a little bit.   
  
“You already fucked him?” Ian asked, bewildered. “But it's only been two weeks…”    
  
Now Ian was becoming hilarious. Mickey wanted to hurt him physically too. Punch him in that upset face he was presenting. “I dragged him home and bent over for him the first night out,” the dark haired man said. He didn’t even notice the anger coming back in Ian’s eyes. And then, something more… “And believe this. He actually didn’t have any boyfriend the morning after! How weird, innit? But then you look so shocked. Like I’m sure you didn’t fuck your _ Cal _ that same day.”   
  
Mickey had talked in pure spite, but Ian lowering his glare in a guilty manner, made him furious. “You did? You fucking did?” This time Mickey shoved Ian hard, with both hands. “Fuck you, Ian! You fucked him!”   
  
“I didn’t want to!” Mickey tried to shove Ian again, but this time the redhead blocked his wrists with his own hands, holding them in a tight grasp. “But he was asking so many questions because I behaved strangely and so…”   
  
“So what better than to fuck him!” Mickey couldn’t shake off the image of Ian with some unknown man, making love to him, making him moan his name, caressing his body with those strong hands. He’d be lying if he had said that he had never imagined the scene before, but now, in front of Ian himself, he just couldn’t stop. Ian kissing somebody else, laughing in bed with somebody else, thrusting with that vigor, that possessiveness in somebody else. Mickey had tried it only for one night, but he missed it so much already. He was jealous, he was aware of it and yet he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He was jealous of this Cal, of the relationship he had with Ian. He wanted this man in front of him. He wanted to punch him, to bite him, to fucking kiss him enough to take both their breaths away. “Who cares if you woke up in my bed that same morning, right?”   
  
He could feel the poison in his words.   
  
Ian pushed him against the wall, taking advantage of his hands still tightly wrapped around Mickey’s wrists. “You fucked another man after what, three days? Now that you tasted dick you can’t go without it?”   
  
He could feel the poison in Ian’s words.   
  
Ian was staring at him the same way he was; Hard, hot, furious. Full of jealousy. Mickey could feel Ian’s warm breath against his face, all while his heart was beating so fucking hard. It was because of rage. Because of arousal too. It was the simple, fucking proximity to this man. It made him go crazy. Maybe that was the reason for his next words...   
  
“So what? You gonna do something about it?” Mickey was trapped between the wall and Ian. He was basking in that suffocating space. “Then you gonna go fuck that nice boyfriend of yours again, hm?”   
  
“What if I do?” Ian took a step closer, enough to completely close their already meager distance. They were chest against chest now. Breaths intermingling. Their fast heart beatings becoming one. And Mickey was shivering. He could feel Ian was too. They were so close. “You’re going on other dates with fucking Eddie?”   
  
Mickey’s answer got lost when their mouths met one another. A crashing of lips and teeth. And it was marvelous. A kiss taken with force by both parts. Hard and painful and so, so good. Mickey let out a moan against Ian's lips. Ian groaned and kissed him harder. Mickey could only respond in kind. He felt Ian's hands cupping his neck, while he had his own fingers locked in Ian's red hair.   
  
He had never kissed Eddie so fiercely. Their first kiss had been tentative, almost timid on Eddie's part. Then they became sweet, and playful and Mickey liked them, he did. But... But they didn't hold any power over him like this one shared with Ian. Fuck, this one made his knees weak, his heart rate speed, and his mind go fuzzy. It was only pleasure. Lust. And something else, a feeling Mickey didn't even let himself think about.   
  
Neither one of them seemed to want to stop. They were taking things further instead. More intense. Hands trailed down, cupping Mickey’s ass, pressing against Ian's back. They were moaning into each other's mouth, itching to feel even more. Ian pulled back and their eyes met, dark with arousal and desire. There was an unspoken conversation before they started to tear each other's clothes off. Their sportswear fell on the floor until they were bare naked in front of one another.   
  
Only their heavy, quick breathing resounded in the room. Ian made the first move when he smashed his lips once again against Mickey's, finding them welcoming and voracious. They were rubbing their full erections as much as they could but it wasn't enough. They were going to do much more and they were aware of it. Ian flipped him so Mickey was now with his chest against the wall and the shorter man let him. He was trembling in anticipation as Ian kissed his nape, bit his shoulder hard. Amazing. The redhead was now grinding his cock between his ass crack and Mickey thrust back, making Ian feel as much as he wanted him. Ian was the same.   
  
“I want you so bad,” he groaned against Mickey’s ear, his warm, feral tone going straight to his cock. Mickey stretched his arm back to push at Ian's ass. Close. Closer. He wanted Ian inside him. “Fuck, Mick.”   
  
“Gonna get the fucking lube,” Mickey gaped, turning his head to kiss him again. It was at an awkward angle, lacking any grace and yet Mickey needed those lips on his. It was short and then Mickey walked to the little table next to the couch, opening its drawer to retrieve lube and condom. Ian was on him in an instant, pushing the other man to get him rest on knee on the couch and grip the back of it with both hands. He leant over Mickey, whispering with bitterness   
  
“You have lube and condoms scattered around your place now?”   
  
Mickey licked his swollen lips. He had a smirk going on. “Need them now that I got me a man, right?”   
  
Ian growled in frustration and snatched the lube, spreading its drops on his fingers. He didn't waste too much time before he inserted one slicked finger inside Mickey, who welcomed the intrusion with a moan. He put in in another finger, and a third. Mickey was relaxing around him, let him push in deeper.   
  
Judging him stretched enough, Ian pulled out his fingers and was quick to put on the condom. Once he was done, he fondled at Mickey’s asscheeks, spreading them wide for him. Mickey grunted when Ian thrust until he bottomed out. Fuck, it was so good. Ian was big, but it wasn't just that. Just feeling his skin flushed against his own was making his head spin. Ian was buried deep inside him and Mickey could weep from it.   
  
His thoughts didn't go towards Eddie. It just wasn't possible at the moment. Not when they were like that, moving as one. How could he feel guilty when all Mickey was focused on was Ian and how right it felt. Ian stretching him good, panting against his ear, telling him how warm he felt around him, how tight, and Mickey was drinking his words with thirst.

Placing one foot on the couch, Ian thrust in further, hitting Mickey’s sweet spot and making him moan loudly. He took it as a hint to continue stabbing against his prostate. Again and again. Faster, stronger, turning Mickey into a boneless heap, so much so the dark haired man couldn't even remember his own name.

His phone buzzed somewhere in his sweats pocket, but Mickey’s ears could only hear Ian's voice. It was repeating his name, over and over again, and that was the song that brought him to his orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo thank you so fucking much my tiny lil shrimp, my beta ElfyDwarf <3


	10. The three words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a boyfriend and a lover is not that easy for someone like Mickey.  
> Especially when there are strong feelings attached.

Mickey woke up to the smell of Ian still lingering on the sheets. He was aware he shouldn't do it, but he pressed his face against the pillow Ian had used and sniffed the scent, a little smile on his lips.

Ian had left in the middle of the night, Mickey wasn't surprised. In the almost two months of their -what was it? An affair? And yet he'd been with Ian for longer than his boyfriend Eddie- some kind of relationship, Mickey had gotten used to not waking up seeing Ian's face. Yet it wasn't always like this, sometimes Ian would come up with some excuse for his own boyfriend to spend the whole night with Mickey and then snuggle a bit in the morning. Exchange lazy kisses until reality came back at them and they had to go back to the other relationships, the supposedly true ones.

Mickey knew it was weird, but he actually felt guiltier fucking Eddie than having something on the side with Ian too. Probably because it wasn't on the side, it didn't feel like it. Ian had become such a big presence in his life during these past months and Mickey couldn't think of only having a professional relationship with him.

Except for when Alec was present, their training sessions had turned into something more private. They were made of lingering touches, caresses, lips on skin. Ian would come up behind him, helping stretch and his fingers would go under Mickey’s top, brushing on places that made the shorter man shiver in excitement. Now that the tension between them was gone, they fell into a normalcy of some sort. They could easily spend an evening just watching television and cuddling the entire time. They could laugh and flirt and feel good. Only unspoken rule: no mentioning their boyfriends. Never ever. And they weren't. They actually spent more time together than with their respective partners.

And when Mickey wasn't in Ian's company, he'd often found himself thinking of him. He had even developed a plan, something he thought good for Ian but he didn't want to reveal yet because it was a secret, a surprise. A wonderful one, he hoped.

“ Oh, you woke up. Good.”

Mickey turned his head to look at Ian, leaning against the wall with a smile on his face.

“ Thought you left…” Mickey muttered, trying not to let any accusatory tone seep through his sleepy voice. He was just happy Ian was there. He had stayed. There, with him.

The redhead shook his head. “Nah. I had to take my pills. But I was thinking…” He climbed on the bed, on hands and knees, moving quick to get on top of Mickey. “We could go for a run. It's not that cold now.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. It was October. So close to the end of the program…

No, he didn't want to think about the end of anything.

“Okay, no more than an hour though. Gotta meet Scott later,” Mickey said. Ian nodded and was now so close he just needed to lean down to kiss him. Mickey welcomed Ian's lips and tongue, closing his eyes and letting that sweet moment fill him with warmth.

“ Good, so now get your ass up and put some clothes on,” Ian replied, biting playfully at Mickey’s shoulder. Lightly. They couldn't leave a mark on the other.

“ Can't do that if you don't move, asswipe.”

Ian chuckled and kissed him again. There was still time to go running.

 

***

 

There was a missed call from his sister. Mickey decided he could answer after the session with Scott, so he pocketed the phone again.

Mandy and he were still fighting over his cheating and he was not in the mood to talk to his sister if she was going to bring up the Ian topic again.

Since Mickey had decided to tell his sister everything, he'd felt the need to talk to her not only about Eddie, but what he had with Ian too. She had not been pleased.

Mandy liked Eddie, she thought he was good for him. And while she appreciated Ian too, the situation they had going on was poisonous. She'd been the one having an affair, she'd been the one cheated on. She knew Mickey didn't deserve this and she'd told him clearly after her brother had confessed.

“ No, no and fucking no, Mick,” she shouted in the middle of this new vegan bar she'd been dying to try. Feeling all eyes on her, she continued talking, whispering. “What's with you? Too much dick got to your head?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. He knew his sister had some rightful reasons, but he wanted to keep an attitude.

“ You don't understand, bitch.”

Mandy scoffed. “ _ You're _ the bitch now, dear brother. You went from zero to two men at the same time. In just two months! I mean, I don't know if I should shake your hand or slap you.”

She was thanked by a raised middle finger. Mandy sighed.

“ But seriously, Mick. I don’t think this is good for you,” she reprised, while cutting her vegan enchilada, “you have someone now. This thing with Ian… I can understand it, I really can. I mean, he’s hot and I was right to think that you were lusting after him. But that’s really it, lust. You told me you like being with Eddie, right?”

Mickey shrugged. “Yeah…” He had ordered a vegan chili that tasted nothing like chili, so he was just really playing with his food, to have something to do, instead of fidgeting too much over his sister’s words. “I like Eddie, he’s a good guy, he makes me laugh… Well, Ian does too. He makes me laugh a lot.”

“ Eddie?”

“ Ian.” Mandy rolled her eyes, but Mickey couldn't even hide his smile at the thought of those moments with Ian, the couch and a B-rated movie. One supposed to be scary and instead they would make jokes and laugh at the characters. He fucking loved those moments. They would forget about not being in an official relationship, where they weren’t cheating, but just be in each other’s company. “Mands, it’s more than just… lust or whatever. I… Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”

The fact that he was admitting his indecision to his sister was suggesting to Mandy that the topic was to be tackled with the proper care. She had never thought that of him before, but now she could see that he was fragile, like any other person. Maybe even more.

She smiled softly at him.

"Mick... You're right, I can't tell you what to do, I'm not in your head. Or heart, for that matter. It's just- things with Eddie seem fine? I like him, he cares about you, it's clear. So I'm pretty sure for your birthday you'll be together still. But Ian? Right now he's you instructor, so you have an excuse to see each other so often, but the program is coming to an end. What's gonna happen when the program is over? He has a boyfriend and next year he'll train someone else. You really think he'll stick with you?"

Mickey bit his bottom lip and lowered his gaze.

It was true. The end of the program was approaching. Eddie had already told him that he was really interested in him, but Ian? They had never talked about it. Mickey had always tried to avoid reality when he was with him.

Would Ian stick with him? Would he be there for his birthday in November or the New Year or meeting with Mandy for dinner sometimes? Would he?

Mickey didn't know, he realized. And that was a stab right through his heart.

Now that the end of October was nearing so fast, Mickey wanted to avoid thinking of the possibility of Ian not being in his life starting the next month.

 

***

 

“ ... And that is why I’m sure I could bring something more to the table, making the flourishing of this company my top priority,” Mickey concluded his speech.

He looked over at Scott, who still maintained an unreadable expression on his face. The older man curled his lips and looked up to the ceiling, as if he was in deep thought... then he smiled and started clapping.

"Bravo! Mickey, that was superb! Magnifico" he exclaimed, only obtaining an eye-roll from his pupil. The dark haired man was used to Scott's drama effects by now. Scott huffed in disappointment, never once would Mickey go along with his exuberance. "Anyway, you did a really good interview. I'd hire you right away!"

Mickey snorted, shaking his head. Truth was, he was feeling all happy and shit inside, because Scott had just praised him for something he cared to do well. He had people praising his looks now, but he wanted someone to compliment his intellect too. He wasn't just a thug, it was nice to remember that.

"Whatever," of fucking course he said 'whatever' even if what he really wanted to say was 'thank you'. Scott seemed to get it. Mickey wasn't a complicated mystery as he'd like to think. "It's not like I need to interview for some job anyway. Got a job already."

Scott dismissed him with a gesture of his hand. "As a part time mechanic, Mickey. But now you have your GED and you started taking classes at college, I'd love to see you do something-"

"They, uh, just promoted me. I'm the garage's bookkeeper, now." Mickey was having serious problems hiding that huge smile that was threatening to crack on his lips at any minute. He was fucking happy for the job. Once the garage's owner had come to know that Mickey had a GED and was taking accounting classes at a nearby community college, he hadn't thought twice before giving him a job that had been vacant for too long. There was going to be so much to do, reorganize and everything. Surprisingly, the once lazy Mickey, was now looking forward having his plate full. 

"Wha-WHAT?" Scott shouted, because when he was glad for someone he really had to show it. "I'm so glad for you! That's kind of the perfect job for you, it's so nice, really."

Mickey scratched his nose. He was now embarrassed. He wasn't used to receiving so many compliments and, while it was nice, it was also awkward as fuck. Especially for someone like him, someone who tended to hide his emotions.

"Oh my god! Am I looking at a blushing Mickey?" Scott smirked. "Yes I am!"

Mickey flipped him the bird, but his smile couldn't be tamed any longer. Fuck, he was actually proud of what he had accomplished.

Scott kept on teasing him and Mickey let him, until the larger man sighed.

"I'll miss you, honey," he said after a while, a sad expression on his face. Mickey knew what he meant. This was the last session. Next time they'd officially see each other would be at the party, where Mickey was scheduled to have his last interview with Jasmine and then, well, say goodbye.

"I won't miss you calling me 'honey'," Mickey replied.

"But you'll miss me a little..." Scott was fucking pouting! Mickey usually joked about it, teasing him even more, but this time he decided otherwise.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah... I guess a little..."

He was rewarded with a big smile on that round, perfectly bearded face. He would miss their sessions, there was no denying it.

 

***

 

Instead of calling Mandy back, Mickey answered the phone call that buzzed as soon as he was out of Scott's place. Eddie must be telepathic.

“ Hey,” Mickey smiled, because he always enjoyed a little chat with Eddie. His _ boyfriend _ . “Just finished. Last session with Scott.”

“ We have to celebrate then,” Eddie replied on the other side. Eddie's low tone of voice seemed to suggest a one-on-one, rumble in bed kind of celebration, but Mickey was not in the mood to have sex. Not with Eddie anyway.

“ Sure thing. There's going to be the final party anyway, right?” Mickey suggested. He wouldn't have minded spending some time alone with Eddie. Talking. Watching television. Going out for dinner. All things he could do with a friend. But if they were alone, then Eddie would probably try to initiate sex, and sometimes even asking to switch roles, and Mickey…

Let's just say they were going through a bit of a dry spell. At least in their relationship. Mickey was getting it almost regularly with Ian.

Was it such a huge deal that Mickey wasn't much into sex with his own boyfriend? 

Yeah, kind of. Probably. Definitely.

“ Sure…” he heard Eddie sigh. Mickey felt more like a lowlife in that moment than when he was dealing on the streets.

“ We can always go out with Mandy?” Mickey proposed. “We gotta be two to endure her ramblings about whichever shit she learned at college.” 

Yeah, Mandy was taking some classes at the same community college of his. Even though Mickey wouldn't be caught dead admitting he was glad to have his sister on campus, he really was. Not just for her company. She was doing something for herself, just like he was. Mandy was attending some fashion courses and she seemed proud of herself. It was nice to see that look on her face. A less caked face. Less mascara, eyeliner and whatever women used to feel prettier.

“ C'mon, Mickey. It's interesting,” Eddie defended his sister. Because he was a nice fucking person and found crazy shit interesting, or called the Alibi vintage instead of a dump. Which it was, by the way.

“ See? That's why you gotta be present too.”

Eddie scoffed. “You know I'll come. I'm not the one always too busy to meet.”

His boyfriend said it lightheartedly, but Mickey was aware that most of the time he'd said he was busy with work or the program he was actually in Ian's company. He bit his bottom lip, fidgeting. He was lucky Eddie couldn't see him now. He had ‘I’m a guilty bastard’ beaming above his head.

“ I know, sorry about that.” About so many fucking things.

“ Nah, you have more fun with Ian, anyway.”

Mickey choked on his own saliva. “W-what?”

“ Yeah I guess doing all those pull ups is way funnier than just relaxing at home eating a pizza. Don't worry, the ordeal is almost over… Not that I'm complaining about your bod.”

Eddie was joking.

Okay. That was okay. Mickey breathed with relief. Eddie didn't know the truth.

“ Right…” Mickey cleared his throat, he tried to sound as light as possible. “Okay, then. I'll talk with the skank and we'll fix a date. Need to call her now, anyway.”

“ Sounds good. See you soon, I miss you.”

Mickey sighed. “Yeah, you too. Bye.”

He ended the phone call. And immediately initiated another one.

“ Oh, finally!” he heard Mandy shout over the phone. Fucking eagle. “What took you so long?”

“ I was at Scott's… and then Eddie called me.” Fuck. He was lying so much to him. And his sister was the only one knowing what was really going on. He needed to vent. “Mands. I'm such a piece of shit…”

That's how he began drowning Mandy in a pool of words. He was giving it back plenty for the nights spent listening to her ramblings.

Mandy let him talk, until she spoke-

“ Leave Ian.”

“ No,” Mickey responded immediately. “I… I can't.”

“ Why.”

“‘ cause…” Why? Why couldn't he just leave Ian? It was bound to happen anyway. When the program was over, Ian would forget about him. But until that moment… “I just can't.”

His sister was silent for a while on the line. “Then break it off with Eddie. It's not fair to him.”

Mickey knew she was right. But if he'd lost Eddie, what would he be to Ian? Something on the side?

Fuck, he really was a bastard, wasn't he? A fucking heartless one.

And yet, his heart had never beaten so fast before he'd met Ian.

 

***

 

He was meeting with his sister and boyfriend later, for dinner. They were going to a Spanish restaurant she swore was to die for.

In the morning, however, Mickey was meeting with Ian. Officially, they were going running. And that was true. But not only that.

Nowadays, Mickey could easily keep up the pace Ian set. The redhead had longer legs than he possessed, but they had managed to find the right speed. Stating something like they were running together in harmony would be kind of a stretch, but Mickey actually enjoyed running miles with Ian. Jogging alone was boring as fuck for him, he'd preferred lifting weights at the gym anytime. But doing it in the redhead’s company…

“ Think you can speed up a little? 'Til the corner,” Ian proposed. They were almost at Mickey’s and the shorter man nodded. He could speed up a bit, alright. 

“ Sure, man.”

That was enough for Ian who sprinted ahead. Mickey lost one second to Ian's advantage and ran after him. And then it was war.

It had rained earlier and they'd step in puddles and splashed the other, emitting only a choked sound because it was hard to banter while running. Mickey shoved Ian by the shoulder, Ian pushed him by the middle. Fuck, Mickey was feeling like a teenager all over again.

Instead of stopping at the corner, they continued racing each other until they were at the building's main door. The door opened thanks to an old lady who was just getting out, so they didn't stop yet, heading straight for the still open lift and rushed inside.

Ian was the first to touch the broken mirror in the lift, but Mickey arrived a moment later and the redhead used that short time-frame to push the right story number. The doors started to close and Mickey felt Ian's ravenous eyes on him. He smirked, emitting a breathless chuckle, and leaned against the wall.

Ian was on him immediately. The redhead pressed his sweaty body against Mickey’s. The shorter man was ready to welcome the heat, the strength, the solid frame of Ian. He parted his lips, allowing Ian's tongue to meet with his own. Fuck, he loved that taste, the feeling of Ian's stubble brushing against his cheeks. Mickey moaned, because he couldn't help it. He wanted Ian closer and he placed one leg behind the other man's thigh in order to achieve it. Ian helped him by grabbing under Mickey’s bare knee. They were flushed together, no surplus of space for Mickey between Ian and the wall and he wouldn't want it any other way. Ian smelled like sweat, and Autumn breeze, and Ian. His nostrils inhaled plenty. All of Mickey’s senses were voluntarily engulfed by that taller man able to rock his world just by making out with him.

The elevator was ascending with its usual slow and creaky gear movements. Mickey wished for it to just stop. Just like time should.

“ Mick…” Ian whispered against his ear, making the shorter man shiver and requiring more, with his fingers now interlocked with strands of red hair. “Want you… so much.”

Mickey whimpered, just as the lift ringed its arrival at the desired floor and the doors opened.

They couldn't be quicker at rushing towards Mickey’s apartment door. No one was passing by and they didn't stop touching one another. Mickey cursed when the door didn't open at the first try and Ian took advantage of those few seconds to trap Mickey against the door and kiss and lick his way from the shorter man's ear to his neck.

“ C'mon, man… gotta open the door,” Mickey muttered, his eyelids almost closing. He was feeling Ian's hands roaming on his heated body and he just wanted to feel more of them.

“ Then open it,” the asshole said in such a low tone of voice, playfully biting at his ear lobe. _ Oh yes, fucking yes. More. More _ .

Mickey finally managed to open the fucking door and slam it closed as soon as Ian was inside. Their mouths connected again, much to their pleasure, hungry for each other. Ian lifted him up against the wall, grabbing him by the ass. Mickey didn't like to feel emasculated, but being manhandled by Ian was something else entirely. It was something he loved, something natural in their sex, that was strong, and messy, and dirty. Ian would become feral when it came to fucking Mickey, yet he could also be so gentle and attentive, making the shorter man want to cry for the several emotions he was able to raise in him.

Eddie couldn't. Eddie was fun, and nice, and a good guy. He was fond of Mickey but he didn't make the shorter man feel what Ian managed to. It just wasn't possible, because something was missing.

“ Fuck me, Ian,” Mickey whispered against the other's lips. Ian was on board if the way he attacked Mickey’s lips again was of any clue. He pushed him onto the couch, climbing on top of him. 

Mickey pressed his hands on both of Ian's shoulder and lower back, hinting at him to lower down, letting his whole bulk to weight on him, just like Mickey liked. Ian was on him, grounding ever so slowly and agonizingly against his crotch. He let himself emit a guttural moan, just wishing for their clothes to be on the floor already. He wanted his naked chest brushing against Ian's. Mickey loved that feeling, he loved everything those freckled fingers were doing on his body, the warmth radiating from Ian. His fucking smell. His taste. He felt so good in his mouth. His tongue. His cock. _ Fuck, fuck _ . Ian was kissing him on that weak spot of his on his neck and Mickey whimpered. How could Ian make him feel so much?

But he did. He did. And the shorter man accepted it all. Their mouths met again and then Ian's was kissing him ever so sweetly on the top of his nose and Mickey loved that too. Ian's roughness. Ian's softness. He loved those green, hooded eyes on his. He loved the way Ian breathed so close. He loved how perfectly they fit together. He…

“ ...Love you,” Mickey whispered, his mind completely overwhelmed by all those feelings that until a second ago hadn't had a name.

Two pair of eyes widened in surprise immediately. The green ones not having expected such confession, the blue ones still shocked for having blurted out something meant to stay hidden.

“ Mick, you…” Ian started to say, standing up and staring at Mickey in confusion.

Mickey’s heart was beating in his fucking cranium, so loud it was. Why had he said it, why? Because it was true? But people shouldn't just blurt out their feelings so easily.

“ Shut up, Ian,” Mickey said, too agitated for his tone to appear even remotely menacing.

“ But, you said-”

“ I said nothing!” Fuck Ian and fuck him and his running mouth.

Ian shook his head. He opened his mouth to talk, because the ginger fucker just couldn't help it. “No, you-”

“ So what if I did say it,” Mickey snapped in the end. Because enough is enough. And yeah, because maybe he _ did want _ to hear a reply. “What if it's true.”

Ian opened again his mouth, but no sound left his lips. Mickey got up too and pursued.

“ What are you going to say then, though guy. Huh?”

What did he want from Ian? What kind of reply? Mickey was feeling pain in his stomach, while his heart was bouncing inside his body like a mad caged bird.

But Ian wasn't giving any reply at all.

“ What? Can't you talk?” Mickey shoved him by the chest. He wasn't usually a man of words, he needed to do something with his hands. Ian wasn't talking and he realized he _ needed _ a response. He couldn't go on without knowing. _ Not knowing what? _ He couldn't attach himself to something that didn't exist. Something that was going to vanish soon, that possessed an expiry. “Fucking talk, man!”

Ian's first words came out feeble. Weak. Uncertain. “Mick, I-I don't know what to say, I…”

Mickey snorted. “That's not an answer.” Or worse, it was. A negative one.

“ I know that!” Ian said, raising up his arms. “I wasn't expecting… What do you want me to say?”

Mickey scratched at his nose. They both knew what he wanted Ian to say. What everybody who ever confessed their feelings for someone wanted that fucker to say back. “Whatcha think?”

Ian bit his bottom lip and lowered his gaze. Yeah, he definitely knew. Mickey was feeling sick, he wanted _ this _ to be over.

“ I need to think about it, Mick,” Ian replied.

Mickey nodded. “You shouldn't need to think about it. Just say no and be done with it.”

“ But I can't just say no… Mickey, I need time, I-”

“ You already had two months to make up your mind about who you want. It's not me.” Just pronouncing those words was painful for him. A needle stinging his tongue with every syllable. He just wished to be alone. “I need to take a shower now. Gotta meet with Eddie and Mandy later. So, if you'll excuse me…” 

Ian came closer instead, he had to be persistent like that. He had to jab his heart a little more. “Mick…”

“ _ If _ you'll excuse me!” Mickey shouted this time. He obtained something he wanted, at least. Ian nodded, even if looking indecisive as he was.  

The door closed behind Mickey, who was once again on the verge of crying.

“ Fuck…” he muttered. This was the second time Ian left him broken like that, that Mickey made him leave. Because he just couldn't cope with it, because it was fucking hard. Mandy was right, he didn't deserve this. Not silence, not uncertainty, not Ian if there was no future.

And yet. Why was hope so fucking hard to kill?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a big, fat thank you to the adorkable shrimp ElfyDwarf. Love ya <3


	11. The parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian goes to a birthday party. Eddie too.  
> Then everyone attend at Mickey's goodbye party hosted by My Fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, last chapter before the final one!

It was one of the magazine executive’s birthday and, as per usual, she’d invited everyone to come to her loft to celebrate with her, but also the-almost-end-of-the-My-Fair program. Ian wasn’t in the mood for parties and happy people, but since both he and his boyfriend worked for the magazine, they had to attend. Also, it was always better than staying home alone with Caleb.

Things between them were… awkward. Actually, they have been awkward since that first night with Mickey, but after Mickey’s confession, they were more like non-existent. Ian's mind was simply too full, thinking about another man.

Ian grabbed a glass of champagne for both Caleb and himself and mimicked taking a sip. He wasn't going to drink, but at least he could fake it. People wouldn't bug him that much since he was the magazine's fitness instructor, but he was aware that people at parties felt more at ease when they saw others drinking as well. Like a ‘trust no one if they don't drink’, kind of rule.

“ Here,” Ian gave the glass to Caleb, who accepted it without looking at him. He was in deep conversation with another photographer about some new trend in photography Ian knew nothing about. Not that he felt the desire to participate anyway. He was way too distracted.

“ _...love you.” _

Mickey’s words were resonating loud and clear in his mind.

Mickey was in love with him. He'd told him so.

And what had he done? He'd fucking run away. Because Ian didn't think he could trust his own words in the heat of the moment. Not with his bastard brain always ready to give him trouble, to make him think and feel things that weren't right. Then later, when he could reason with a clearer mind, he'd see their wrongness.

Yet he'd hurt Mickey and that was the last thing he wanted. Ian cared about that man, that much was evident. But they were both with other people…

Ian looked at Caleb. When they'd met for the first time, Caleb had struck him as the perfect man. He was sweet and kind and a real adult, level-headed. The kind of man who wanted to take things slow and had kissed him on their third date and had fucked him the month later. He was a romantic who'd bought him chocolates for Valentine's day and who was completely comfortable with his sexual preferences. Ian had thought that that kind of normalcy would be good for him and it had been. In the beginning.

Caleb had told him he was HIV positive and Ian had revealed he had Bipolar. It had seemed like a good match, they both had life sentences, had to face hardships because of their illness. Ian had thought they were on the same boat, or at least sailing similar rough seas.

And then they weren't. As Caleb had stated during one of their fights, he might be sick, but at least not in his mind. That had been ground for a fist fight, but that knowledge stuck with Ian. He was the lesser person in their relationship as a couple. Then his meds had gone off, and Ian had gone wild for some time, giving even more credit to Caleb’s accusation. He had cheated on his boyfriend, not being able to sleep and always out partying. Caleb had left him, because of Ian's cheating, because he didn't know how to deal with bipolar, especially during one episode where Ian thought he was held captive by Caleb and wanted to escape. Yet there was one thing that, for Caleb, was evident and he'd told him when they'd gotten back together. In the end, when Ian wasn't feeling manic, he'd always come back to him.

Was that true? Was it just his tricky brain making him doubtful of his relationship with Caleb? Because his thoughts, his desires, were all about Mickey. But then, there was nothing about him being manic when he was with Mickey. He felt good and fuck if that man could make him horny, but he knew the difference by feeling good and _ feeling good _ by now. Or at least that was what he thought. But his psychiatrist hadn't heard an alarm bell concerning his behavior. So maybe…

“ Ian? _ Ian _ .” 

Caleb was calling him. Ian frowned.

“ They're cutting the cake.” His boyfriend was moving towards the hall where the birthday girl was holding a giant ass knife, dangerously waving it at her guests.

“ Mh.” Ian nodded. Caleb was giving him the shoulder now, but he couldn't care less. They've been giving each other shoulders physically and metaphorically since the day they'd gotten back together. Caleb had told Ian he'd always come to him, yet after two weeks together, Ian hadn't felt comfortable having sex with him, not until after he and Mickey had fucked, and only because he'd thought it was the right thing to do. Because he couldn't fuck someone else instead of his own boyfriend. And now he was having sex with two men, but only one was making his head spin. Mickey.

Fuck, was it is brain? Or was it actually normal to lust after someone who wasn't the boyfriend? No, it wasn't even lust. Not only. He liked being around Mickey so much, he felt more comfortable with him. Happier. Fucking good. Ian gazed at Caleb’s back.

Was he happy with Caleb? He'd _ been _ happy, when they'd first started dating. Now? Not so much anymore. Ian would make up excuses not to see him and be with Mickey instead.

But Mickey had told him he loved him. And he was with someone else, they both were. He'd taken Ian by surprise and now… how were they standing now?

Ian should make a decision, but he was afraid of decision-making. Could he trust himself? Ian got that Caleb wasn't really over his bipolar disorder, but he'd seen some of his bad episodes and he was back with him. Mickey hadn't seen Ian at his worst. Would he stay with him? Would he accept and embrace everything about him? Mickey’d seen something, some shadows of his illness, some days too-off or too-on. Even if Caleb couldn't or wouldn't understand, he was still there.

Even if Ian didn't love him anymore.

Ian bit his lips not to gasp.

He didn't fucking love Caleb. He had thought he'd come to love him again after they'd gotten back together, but then Mickey had entered the game and…

Did he love Mickey?

Did Mickey really love him? He was with another man...

Ian was swayed from thinking more about it because of the classic, ‘speak of the devil…’ Eddie entered the room, with a small bag in hand. The other redhead kissed the birthday girl on the cheek and gave her her present. 

Fucking Eddie. Ian actually liked the guy, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous.

Christ, he _ was _ so fucking jealous of Eddie, for the title he held with Mickey. He…

“ You know, I heard that he's back on grindr,” Lance, the photographer who was with them, said, gesturing towards Eddie. That got Ian's full attention. “He has a boyfriend, two months together or something? But I remember seeing his profile popping up frequently before- I mean, so I _ heard _ .” 

Caleb snorted. Yeah, as if nobody knew Lance liked random hookups that weren't with his own wife.

But for Ian, the photographer’s infidelity held no importance at the moment.

“ He's cheating on Mickey?” Ian snapped, taking the man by surprise. Lance nodded after a few seconds.

“ Yeah, Mickey’s this year's Fair, isn't he?” Then he schooled his mouth in a O, coming to the realization “Right, you're his trainer! Fuck… I mean, I haven't told you anything, alright? But yeah, all I know it's that he's back on grindr and that… after just two months together… Mickey must be quite a bad lay, huh? But then there must be a reason why he joined the program… all a bunch of losers.”

Ian tightened his jaw. It was that or kick Lance’s ugly ass. First, Ian's Fairs weren't losers -Lance was- and second, Mickey wasn't a bad lay, he was a great fucking one, especially considering he'd been a virgin. He'd always give his all when they were having sex, the way he gripped onto Ian while he was thrusting into his warm body…

No, fuck it.

Ian tightened his jaw, yes **,** and then shoved Lance hard against his chest, causing him to take some steps back not to fall.

“ What the fuck do you know, Lance?” he spat. “You're a fucking loser, asshole!”

Lance was dumbfounded by Ian's reaction, but Caleb didn't appear to be. He took his boyfriend by the arm and dragged him outside the room before Lance could reply and start a commotion.

“ Calm down, Ian!” he said once they were in the silent peace of a joined living room.

Ian rolled his eyes but took a huge breath anyway.

“ I don't like people talking bad about my students-”

“ You don't like them talking bad about Mickey, you mean.”

Ian's eyes widened at Caleb’s words. He swallowed.

“ You…”

“ What's going on with that man, Ian?” Caleb asked with a sigh. “And don't fucking lie.”

Ian wasn't going to. Even if he was still in shock. “I… I slept with Mickey. No, I _ am sleeping _ with him.” Were they still sleeping together after what had happened last time? Ian didn't know, but he didn't want to stop to things with Mickey.

Caleb certainly wasn't looking happy, but he nodded. “Thought so…” 

“ How?”

The man looked at him, disappointed. “How do you think? You were always talking about _ Mickey _ this and _ Mickey _ that, before, so enthusiastically. Then you stopped altogether, but you started spending even more time with him. At first I thought you just wanted to help him, being in the closet and all, but… didn't last for long. These past two months- fuck, basically ever since our relationship has started again, you are always there, with him. Even the sex… Well, the little there is... You've never been so careful. Condoms, prep... you were not more dedicated to us, taking it more seriously, you were fucking thinking about _ him _ ! Touching me less so he's safer or some kind of shit.”

Ian lowered his gaze. He'd been so transparent in everything he'd done, even for the things he'd done unconsciously. He was going to apologize, but Caleb wasn't finished talking.

“ You’re not taking your meds, are you? Or they stopped working.”

Ian frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Caleb shrugged. “You cheating on me… last time your cocktail wasn't working.”

Right. Because if Ian was cheating on him meant he was manic.

Fuck that.

“ My meds are fine,” Ian said.

“ What?”

“ My meds are fucking fine. They're working. It's me. I cheated. Because I wanted to cheat.” Ian ran a hand through his hair. It was almost so simple now that things were out, in the open. “What's not working is _ us _ . We're not meant to be together, Cal, we shouldn't have tried again. I'm sorry, so sorry I cheated. But we make each other unhappy.”

Caleb tightened his lips between the teeth. “And he does? Make you happy?”

Mickey. The hint of a smile curled up the sides of Ian's mouth. “Very much so.”

The other man nodded, his hands curling up in fists. He looked at Ian with cold anger. “Fuck you, Ian.”

Caleb shoved past him, hitting Ian against the shoulder and went back to where the party was still going on. Ian sighed and, grabbed his jacket, went out to head home.

 

***

 

Once again, Mickey was wearing fucking make-up. Foundation and some other shit to bring out his eyes or whatever. Melissa and Raul seemed satisfied with their work and, after praising him for how good he looked now, they had let him go.

He was now standing in a small room, smoking a cigarette because fuck that, he needed the nicotine. He was wearing an expensive dark suit and he was about to step out on stage to have his final interview with Jasmine for his fucking goodbye party. In front of something like two hundred people. Where the fuck had they found so many assholes?

Fuck, he needed to calm down. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich and he had everything under control. He was cool. Yeah…

No, he was not.

He felt like a little kid before going onstage to play the pilgrim for some Thanksgiving show at the elementary school. It was just a fucking interview.

Oh, but it wasn't _ just _ an interview. It was the end of ten fucking months of hardship, and getting to know himself, accepting himself for who he was and yeah, to make something of his life. He'd made it through, somehow, and now he was at the end of the tunnel or something like that.

“ Mickey, you're almost up,” said Eddie, poking in his head. He smiled at the clearly nervous-as-fuck man. “It's going to be alright.”

“ Yeah? How the fuck do you know?” Mickey huffed while trashing his cigarette butt.

“ I'm sure.” Eddie entered the room. He winked at him. “Want a kiss for good luck?”

“ No,” said Mickey abruptly. Eddie's smile faded. Fuck if he was feeling guilty now. But after what he'd told Ian… after… Mickey just couldn't bring himself to even kiss Eddie. “After, alright? Can't smudge my makeup or Melissa is going to whack me.”

Eddie didn't seem convinced, but nodded anyway. “Sure. I'll see you onstage then.”

Mickey nodded too and the door closed. He was already alone.

Until he wasn't. A woman called for him, directing him to where to sit. There, in front of everyone with Jasmine.

They had decided to do things spectacularly because when Mickey entered, the place was dark, and then-

Lights on.

Suddenly Mickey could see the other people, and so all of them could see him.

Applause, whistles, cheering. The crowd seemed to go crazy just by taking a look at him.

“ Go Mickey!”

“ You're great!”

“ We love you!”

Mickey’s ears couldn't even take in all the wonderful words thrown at him like roses for a renowned actor onstage. Were they really for him? Fuck, were those people here to cheer for _ him _ ? Mickey Milkovich?

He turned his head back to see a giant picture of him ten months ago, standing next to what the camera aimed at him was showing: Mickey in a nice suit, his hair styled back, fit and handsome. He almost looked like he came from a good family or some shit. He glanced again at the picture and he felt a slight sense of homesickness. But no, he would never go back to who he'd been; an unhappy man scared of his own shadow. 

Mickey felt a knot in his throat and his eyes starting to burn.

Oh no, he wasn't going to cry. _ Fuck no _ .

He saw Jasmine waving at him and he took the hint to go and sit on the plush armchair next to hers.

“ Hello, Mickey,” she greeted him, looking great in her blue satin dress. “How do you feel?”

“ Uh… g-good?” His voice was betraying him by being incredibly hoarse. The fuck, he needed to be cool, his own voice couldn't betray him.

She smiled at him, as he sat on the armchair. She had to know Mickey was feeling nervous and shy. “I'm, no, _ we're _ so glad to have you here tonight.”

A loud cheering resonated through the hall. Mickey still couldn't believe it was all for him. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “Uh. Thanks.”

“ Thank _ you _ , Mickey.”

Mickey was _ so _ not used to people thanking him. For what, then? For trying to be better? His father had never even told him once ‘good job kid’ and now he was getting praised for having worked on himself. It felt strangely… heartwarming.

Damn, he was so fucking gay.

“ So, these have been ten, intense months for you, haven't they? You've achieved so much, Mickey. We're all so proud of you.” Jasmine smiled at him, lightly touching the back of his hand. “Our guests here have all followed you during your journey. It wasn't easy, at first, but then you changed your mind and really started to get on with the program…”

Fuck. She was speaking pleasantries, but when she said that Mickey changed his mind, the man could see it. In her clear eyes. She knew how much he had changed his mind. That he was gay. Mickey didn't have many doubts in merit. Probably everyone involved in the magazine knew. But now, seeing it for himself… well, that was something else. Still, he was glad the magazine had decided to keep quiet about it. Even if he didn't know if it was a nice gesture on their part or a decision to portray Mickey as a now handsome straight man.

Jasmine kept talking and now it was pretty evident that she was gliding over any references to him being gay. Like the fact that he had found many _ friends _ . Mickey realized that it was only up to him whether he wanted to make the others know. It was nobody's but his business. Also, he was tired of hiding. And what better place to just tell his secret, just once, in front of a crowd?

“ I'll stop you right there, Jasmine,” Mickey said, trying to sound as polite as he could. Scott had once said that politeness was an armour. Maybe it was true, the old fox knew his stuff. Jasmine was talking about how Mickey was not taking care of himself aesthetically too, almost making him pass for a metrosexual. And that was even worse than being gay. The fuck. “Let us just be clear. I think your discourse would flow much better if I just say one thing first.” He took a deep breath. Politeness was an armour, he was a fighter, Scott's words. Politeness was an armour, he was a fighter. Politeness- Oh, fuck that. “I'm fucking gay. I just thought everybody should know that. So… yeah, you can go on now, Jasmine.”

Mickey went strong and then his voice weakened. Now he was silent, hoping for the woman to fucking talk again to let the embarrassing moment disappear.

Instead Jasmine was smiling kindly at him, and the crowd, before silent, started to whistle, or awed, or screamed in a high pitch because some girls just couldn't seem to be able to scream in a more normal way than a strangled cat.

It _ was, _ actually… a good reaction? Mickey looked in disbelief at all the people in front of him, not one disgusted face amongst them. Maybe just a few disappointed, but their friends were just laughing and patting them on their backs.

“ It seems you just broke some girls’ hearts,” Jasmine whispered at him.

Okay, now it was surreal. Yet he would be a liar if he didn't admit that he liked it, even just one tiny bit. He was the fucking prince that night. Or king. Or dictator, whatever. This was _ his _ fucking party.

“ Yes, Mickey. I'm sure my speech will flow much better now,” Jasmine sassed, making him blush. But he was already so red-faced it was impossible to tell. “Now, we were talking about your day at the spa. We can see now a short video our Scott took…”

She kept talking and the video appeared on the big screen, showing Mickey with his green face mask on, cucumber slices on his eyes included. Fucking Scott, he didn't know he'd taken it! The old queen would have to pay for that sooner or later. Because yes, they had decided to remain in contact. Mickey liked the guy after all, sue him.

Jasmine continued telling the crowd about Mickey’s journey and she asked Mickey questions from time to time. By the time the interview was approaching an end, the man had almost come to relax and didn't feel like he had a broomstick stuck up his ass. He even made a joke or two.

What surprised him the most was the crowd. They actually seemed to like him. Like, laughing with him, awing at him, whistling for encouragement.

And then, he also saw familiar faces. There was Scott, who sent him a kiss, and Mandy, who was smiling so widely Mickey feared her face would split in two. And there was Ian, just looking at him and only him, able to make Mickey’s heart race so fucking fast.

Jasmine let him go to enjoy his party and he left the stage with applause and pats on the back. All from people he didn't know, but had followed him through those past months and felt like they knew him a little instead and they were genuinely happy for him.

Oh fuck. Tears were poking at his eyes again. Dammit. _ Stay strong, Mickey _ .

Sure, when Mandy placed both her hands on his cheeks and said

“ I'm so proud of you, dickhead.”

One tear or two dropped down on his face. He pulled back and tried to swipe them off before Mandy or anybody could notice. From the amused smirk on her face no, he hadn't succeeded. She didn't mention it, though.

“ Thank you, skank,” he grumbled, because he couldn't trust even his own voice. “I'm… I'm proud of you too.”

She didn't care for concealing her tears and opened her arms to envelope him in a tight hug. He hugged her back.

“ Two Milkoviches that are actually trying, you know?” she whispered, not letting him go yet.

Mickey nodded. He got what she meant. They were both taking classes at college; a community college, but still… He had started working as the garage bookkeeper, doing something he enjoyed and legal, whereas Mandy was becoming her own woman, no more dressed to catch the eye with her too short skirt or too heavily caked with make-up. She looked younger and so beautiful now and they were finally bonding for real.

They were both stupidly smiling at each other, their eyes lucid when Scott joined the duo to greet them.

“ Oh, honey, you were so great up there!” he praised Mickey, wanting in on the hug. So they were now three people hugging and it was ridiculous. Mickey disentangled himself from the collective arm wrapping, but didn't lose his smile.

“ Yeah? Thanks.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, you were that perfect mixture between politeness and vulgarity. Beautiful.”

Mickey snorted, but the laugh died on his lips when he crossed eyes with Ian, who was looking right at him from a distance.

Mickey didn't know how they were standing now. Not after what he'd told him. That he-

Fucking fuck. Had he really told him those three fucking words? Couldn't he have just shut up?

And yet… He _ felt _ those words.

He just couldn't believe they had managed to escape his tongue.

“ Fuck it…” he muttered, leaving Mandy and Scott to approach Ian. He had a surprise ready for Ian, it didn't matter what happened between them now. They were friends and he'd done a very friend thing for Ian. Maybe it would only be their final farewell but…

_ Christ _ . Why were tears poking at his eyes again? He was gay, not a little bitch.

“ Hey,” he said, once he was close to the redhead, who'd joined him in the middle.

 

***

 

“ Hey, Mick,” Ian greeted. Mickey had been great at the interview, he'd rocked it. And fuck, if he looked amazing. He was wearing this dark blue suit that wrapped him in all the right places and made his baby blue eyes stand out. He was beautiful and enticing and all Ian wanted was to drag him somewhere quieter and more isolated.

But no. They had to talk first.

Why do people have to talk? Couldn't they just express everything they felt through their minds? Ian wasn't even sure of how he felt, how could he convey it to Mickey in words? It was all so confusing…

“ I need to talk to you,” he said, trying to gather the right words.

Mickey nodded. “ Yeah, we gotta talk, but first I want to-”

“ Eddie's cheating on you,” Ian blurted out. Fuck, this was _ not _ how he wanted to begin the conversation. He was supposed to compliment Mickey, to tell him how awesome he was, that now Caleb knew about them and it was all in the open-

“ What?” Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. He didn't look mad, yet. He seemed genuinely shocked.

“ Yeah…” Well, he had to explain now. “I was at this birthday party and Eddie showed up and I heard from this guy that he's again active on Grindr and… I don't know. I guess he was, before you got together? But he's using it so… he's cheating on you, Mick!”

Mickey was looking at the redhead, appalled. Then he lowered his eyes and shrugged. It was clear he was feigning nonchalance.

“ He cheats, I cheat… we make a great couple, huh?”

“ Yeah. You gotta leave him,” Ian said without thinking twice.

Mickey snorted. “Like you can talk. You're cheating too.”

“ Caleb knows.”

The dark haired man opened his mouth to talk, but at first no sound came out. He had to clear his throat once before being able to speak. “You told him?”   
  
Ian shrugged and since his thoughts were racing at a fast speed, he didn't notice Mickey’s hopeful tone of voice, his eyes softening.   
  
“ No. He already suspected and I didn't deny. So we got into a fight and-” _ and I told him he doesn't make me happy. You do. _

“ And then? You left him?” Mickey interrupted.

“ He left me. Or I think so…” They haven't talked yet. “He left me at the party, at least. I don't know how we're standing but I think we're done…”

“ So what,” Mickey’s tone changed, became harder, “Just in case, I should break up with Eddie? I told you that- Fuck that. You don't like to be alone, is that it?”

Ian could've answered in so many different ways; he could've told him that he should break up with Eddie so they could be together, or he could've said that he wasn't sure how he felt about Mickey, because with his disorder he needed more time, but he knew deep in his heart how important Mickey was to him, that he was willing to take a leap of faith if Mickey was too, that their relationship wouldn't end with the program, that they belonged with each other. 

Instead, what he said, because he should've written a damn letter and not face Mickey without a prepared speech, because the other man's tone was aggressive, was:

“ It's not like you're better with Eddie. He cheats on you with a fucking app!”

Mickey’s eyes widened. And then they closed. A loud sigh escaped from his lips.

“ You know what? I'm tired of this shit. I… this is my fucking farewell party. I did fucking good these months and I just came out. I'm fucking free now, to do whatever the hell I want and I sure won't spend my freedom chasing after you like some bitch. You want to stay with your Cal? You want to be with me? I'm so done with following you around, bend to your needs…” He chuckled, bitter. “Quite literally. I want to be fucking happy.”

“ You can't be with Eddie!”

He was jealous, he was fucking bursting with jealousy. He knew, deep down, that he should try to focus on Mickey and himself, but all he could focus on was getting Mickey’s boyfriend out of the equation.

“ Fuck Eddie!” Mickey snapped. “And fuck _ you _ ! I can't be with Eddie, I fucking know it. He cheats, I cheat… it's not fair, for both of us. Especially not when I think about you when I'm with him. It's not a relationship.”

“ Mick, you-”

“ I'm done with him and I'm done with you. I'm a new me now, right? I need to be alone right now.”

Mickey turned back to leave. Ian was ready to follow him, but the man bumped into someone. Someone Ian recognized immediately. Even after years, even after he'd grown up so much.

“ Liam?” the redhead muttered, looking at his youngest brother standing in front of him.

“ Hey, big brother?”Liam looked confused by the situation, but smiled anyway. “Fiona and Debbie are here somewhere too. We lost each other.”

Ian looked from Liam to Mickey, who started speaking.

“ Yeah. I had a surprise for you. You know, to thank you for being such a _ good friend _ . Make it right with your family at least, asshole.”

Before Ian could answer, Mickey shoved his way through the crowd.

“ Mickey!”

The dark haired man didn't turn around and Ian was left with his younger brother, who shrugged. “Have I interrupted something?”

 

***

 

Mickey had wanted to enjoy the rest of the evening, but instead he ended up spotting Eddie and he decided he needed to sort things out with the man.

They took the cab to Mickey’s apartment and didn't kiss. Eddie sensed that something was definitely off.

Mickey took off his jacket and scarf when they arrived home and went to the fridge to grab a couple of beers. He motioned for Eddie to sit on the couch.

“ We really gotta talk, man,” he said, handing a bottle to the boyfriend and sitting down next to him, but not too close.

“ Sure… what is it?” Eddie asked, playing with his beer.

“ I know about Grindr,” Mickey said. He was tired of talking in circles. He needed to get everything off his chest.

Eddie's reaction was what he expected. He was finally taking a sip when he sputtered out the beer. “W-what?!”

Mickey sighed. “I know, Eddie. I'm not mad, I just want the truth.”

“ ...Who told you?” Eddie asked,  leaving all pretense of innocence behind.

“ Doesn't matter.”

The younger man nodded and scratched his neck. “Right. Uh… it's been a couple of weeks, well a little longer… Don't- don't say anything until I'm finished, okay?”

“ Sure,” Mickey said. It was almost ridiculous how much he really wasn't angry. Maybe disappointed, but he didn't have any right to be. But he wasn't jealous or feeling sad or anything.

“ I used to be online often. Like, really often. At first it was just to try. I was curious, you know. And then… I really, really like sex, Mickey. I like to give _ and _ take. And often. I stopped when we got together, and I thought it was great, but you'd never be the top and even the rest… we never had that much, so I one night I opened Grindr again, to take a look. Instead I met with the guy one hour later.” He didn't stop talking. “But it was just sex, Mickey. I swear. I feel something for you, I want us to stay together. We could find a middle ground.”

Mickey chuckled.

Every time a compromise. What was with him and his fucking taste in men?

But at least with this one redhead, he was partially at fault too. He simply wasn't in love with him. He'd kept him as a rebound after Ian and then as his boyfriend because Ian had one too and he didn't want to feel miserable. Which he did, anyway.

“ We don't need to,” Mickey said. “We can't be together anymore.”

Eddie raised his eyes, he looked like a lost puppy and he made him feel a pang of guilt in his gut. “Is it because of Ian?”

That definitely took Mickey by surprise.

“ Wha-"

Eddie didn't let him finish. “I know you have a crush on him, but now that the program is finished, I thought…”

Fuck. Was it that obvious?

“ You know?”

The guy shrugged. “Yeah…”

“ I was cheating on you with Ian,” Mickey confessed then, because he didn't feel the point of keeping it a secret anymore. “And I'm sorry, ‘cause I could never really be with you.”

This time it was Eddie's time to appear surprised. But he tried to conceal it. “Okay. That, I definitely didn't know… feel less guilty now.” 

Mickey nodded. Maybe Eddie would've started cheating on him anyway, but he certainly helped speed up things.

“ We're both cheaters, huh?” the redhead added.

Mickey had to agree with the statement. He didn't like it -who would?- but it was true nonetheless. He should've never started a relationship… fuck, his first relationship ever, when his heart lay elsewhere.

“ Yeah…”

“ So, we're like, done?” Eddie asked.

Mickey nodded.

“ You and Ian then…”

“ Don't think so,” Mickey answered. Sadness impossible to hide in his voice. “We left off pretty badly and… Oh, I don't know.”

Was it so lame to still have hope?

“ If he cares about you as much as you do about him, I think you'll be fine,” Eddie said, a resigned smile on his face. He stood up. “Now. I'd like to avoid things becoming more awkward, so…”

He motioned towards the door. Mickey accompanied him.

“ Still… Mickey, I like you. I guess we're not compatible, but, uh, as friends?” Eddie said, whilst opening the door.

Mickey smiled. He didn't want to lose Eddie after all. He was glad the younger man felt the same way. “Sure. And we gotta go again, to the Sugar&Cream. I'll deny it in the future, but I miss Moon and her horoscopes.”

Eddie chuckled, but when he nodded he appeared serious. “Yeah, let's do that sometime.”

The said their goodbyes and Mickey was now alone.

Did Ian care about him as much as he did for Ian?

 

***

 

Ian had wanted to follow Mickey, to grab him by his arm before he could slip away. But his family was there.

His fucking family.

Ian couldn't believe what Mickey had done, for him. They had talked about the Gallaghers sometimes; he'd told Mickey how much he missed them, how much he wanted to see his youngest brother in particular. Mickey had never mentioned once about knowing them, if not superficially, as South Side neighbours. And then… 

Mickey never ceased to surprise him. Ian just hoped he would continue doing it.

Liam hugged him as tight as he could. And it was as if Ian had never left. Fiona and Debbie joined them sometime later and they talked about Liam’s achievements and Ian couldn't feel more relieved. Liam was amazing and a really great kid.

They ended up going to the Gallaghers home to continue their conversation and Ian thought it was weird how he recognized the house and at the same time he didn't. It hadn't been his home for more than ten years. Yet the living room looked the same, if not for a hot new couch and a bigger tv set. The kitchen smelled the same, but the appliances were all modern and functional. Ian wondered about the rooms upstairs, he had his doubts that his old, creaky twin bed was still used.

Carl was at the kitchen table sipping coffee and offered it to the other members of the family. For Liam it was late and he had school the morning after, so he said goodnight to everyone.

“ You're not gonna disappear this time, right?” he asked Ian, guilt stabbing the redhead straight to his heart.

“ No. It was wrong of me last time, I… I'll come back. Maybe this weekend? We could play some baseball, what do you say?”

Liam nodded with a little smile on his lips. “Sure. I'll give you my number, wait…”

The youngest brother climbed up the stairs after putting his number into Ian's phone.

Now, alone with his other three siblings, the awkward silence that could've possibly happened, was avoided by Fiona slapping Ian hard on the back of his neck.

“ Well, long time no see, stranger!” she exclaimed.

Ian winced at the slap, but all he could say was

“ Sorry…”

Just two hours in his family's company and he realized he missed them so damn much. Sending gifts and money and giving them a few calls certainly hadn't sufficed.

“ Yeah, about time! We had to hear from your boyfriend first,” pouted Debbie.

Ian was shocked. His boyfriend? Caleb had never seemed once interested in his family unless it was for some funny anecdote. “Who? Cal?”

Debbie frowned, but it was Carl who snorted. “Who the fuck is Cal? You got another one?”

“ Mickey,” Fiona supplied, watching Ian looking lost. “You broke up? That why he wasn't with you tonight?”

Oh, right. Mickey was the one who had made the reunion possible. While he, on the other hand, behaved like a total asshole…

“ He's… Mickey’s not my boyfriend, Fi.” He didn't have any boyfriend now. He'd sent Caleb a message to meet and talk -to break up for good- but the man had preceded him and written ‘fuck off’. He guessed he deserved it.

The trio looked at him with surprise.

“ Seriously? Then it's one sided for the poor fucker?” Carl asked.

“ You should've seen him every time he talked about you. Like, eyes sparkling and everything. We really thought you were together,” said Debbie, looking disappointed.

“ Not to forget your dopey expressions when you were looking at him,” Fiona said. “smiling dumbly and all that.”

“ What?” Ian arched his eyebrows. They had never seen him with Mickey, how could they tell? How could they fucking know something that he himself wasn't sure of?

“ The My Fair videos? Never watched them?” Debbie was staring at him like, duh, of course the videos.

Ian shook his head. He knew about the videos, he'd lived them when Alec had taped him and Mickey, but of course he'd never watched them. He was not _ that _ vain.

Debbie rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. She tapped on it until she showed her older brother the screen where a gym session was playing.

There was him and Mickey and he was helping the shorter man with his stretching. It was September and they were fucking like rabbits already. And it showed. Fuck, if it showed.

That was not a stretching session, it was preliminaries to sex. It was impossible not to notice. Alec had cut off every spoken hint at Mickey’s sexuality, but there was really no need. It was there, clear as day.

They had probably run to Mickey’s to fuck after the video. Right at that moment, Ian was behind Mickey, helping him by pressing his hands on the back of the other man. Mickey had become pretty flexible and Ian appreciated that. His hands were placed a bit lower than necessary and Mickey was subtly thrusting back a little. They were both softly grunting and it wasn't because of the difficulty of the stretching.

Fuck, Mickey was glistening with sweat, he was so hot…

“ I totally thought you two were fucking. Guess I was wrong,” Debbie said. Fiona snatched her phone and typed something else.

“ I like this video more,” she commented and held the phone for Ian to take.

The video Ian had now in his hand showed them at the gym again. This time Mickey was doing pull ups and Ian was looking at him. There was no sexual tension, but something else. It was the end of July and they hadn't started hooking up yet. Ian had never even thought of Mickey that way, it was just about the time when Caleb had begun to call him again and inviting him out. Mickey should be only his friend and pupil back then. And yet Ian's eyes weren't looking at him as that. They were soft, tender. They were loving.

Ian gasped watching him watching Mickey with adoration, a dumb smile on his lips.

“ I was sure you were in love, or at least in the early phase,” Fiona said and Debbie was nodding with conviction.

Ian didn't stop staring at the screen. Mickey had finished his series and was laughing at something he'd said. The look in his eyes matched Ian's.

The video ended with them playfully shoving at each other.

“ Mickey told me he loved me and I couldn't reply,” Ian said, placing the phone on the nearby counter. “I didn't know…”

He didn't know what? How to respond? That he shared the same feelings? That he was in love with the man and he'd never realized?

“ Fuck,” he sighed. “I made such a mess.”

Carl chuckled. “That's kinda your thing. And it's me who's saying it.”

“ What are you gonna do, Ian?” Fiona asked.

Ian shrugged. “Should I go to him?”

He had so many things in his mind going on right now, he couldn't exclude making a mess again if he went to see Mickey that same night.

“ No. What you need to do is think about it. Seriously. Deep. You gotta know what you feel for sure or you're so gonna fuck it up with him. For good,” said Debbie.

“ What if it's already fucked up for good?” asked Ian, thinking back about his and Mickey’s last quarrel.

“ Then you accept it and go on. But I'm pretty sure you'll receive a positive answer when you're ready,” Fiona replied, putting an end to the conversation. “You should watch some other videos. You're head over heels about each other.”

 

***

 

Ian was typing a message on his phone:

 

_ Mickey, thank you. For what you did with my family. And for… well, you, for giving me a chance. I blew it but I'm gonna do things right this time. If you'll still have me. I won't tell you how I feel about you like this, I want to tell you in person, looking at you. But I can't right now. I need time, to sort things out, you know. Then I'm gonna be all yours and I hope you'll be the same. I know I shouldn't ask you to wait, I already made such a mess and if you don't want to take me back I'll understand | _

 

He shook his head. This text was not fair to Mickey. He was asking the man to wait for him, but he didn't have any right to do so. He, himself, had pushed Mickey into Eddie's arms and then had tried to break them up. He needed time, that was true. But Mickey shouldn't wait for him, because of some text message. He owed Mickey more than that. Mickey should do as he pleases. Ian would offer himself to him when he was ready and accept it if Mickey turned him down.

He started deleting words.

Delete. Delete. Delete…

 

_ Mickey, thank you. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you shrimpy peacock ElfyDwarf! <3


	12. The choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian can't be without Mickey  
> Mickey can't be without Ian

In the end, his sister had been right. He _ had spent _ his thirty third birthday in Eddie's company.

Just… not as boyfriends. On November tenth, Mickey had turned one year older with a small birthday party, the first he'd ever had, really. The only parties organized in his family were ‘welcome back’ ones for the return of a Milkovich from a stint in juvie/jail. He- well, Mandy- had invited some people from the neighborhood, and a couple of brothers and cousins, and Scott, Eddie and Alec. One of his assistants too.

Mickey’d had fun, he couldn't deny it.

No, actually he could and he did. But no one believed him, they were used to his grumpy behavior. Scott had even hugged Mickey and, surprisingly, he let him.

Eddie had given him a vibrator as a present, telling him with a smirk that now that he was single again he should totally use it. The fucker was now dating someone online, but was still thoroughly using Grindr.

Who had never been single in the first place, almost everyone discovered with a certain amount of shock, was Scott. Even though the man had been flirting all along, he had a _ fiancè _ who had just returned from his tour with doctors without borders, a big guy, tanned and ripped, and he'd brought him to Mickey’s birthday to show him off.

Now, not even a month had passed since his birthday and it was cold, but Mickey couldn't really give a fuck. He was inside his office at the garage and the room was warm and quite cozy, despite the presence of a big ass calendar of naked girls and several metallic spare parts hoarded somewhere in a corner. The soft rumble of engines and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in his mug made his morning pleasurable enough to tackle all the invoices he had to record.

Mickey took a sip of his coffee, his nose warming up from the steam coming up from the mug. It was 09:10 a.m. and he should be getting on with his work but, instead, he grabbed his phone from inside a desk drawer and opened it to a specific text.

 

_ Mickey, thank you. _

 

Thank you? What the fuck?!

Ian only meant about the family reunion surely, or was it something else? Like, 'thank you for existing' or some cheesy shit like that? It was lame, but Mickey would even take cheesy, he'd take it _ all _ .

Truth was, he missed that fucking man. So, so much. He missed his dorky laugh and his faded freckles and the way he kissed the back of his neck when cuddling in bed. He missed Ian's nagging when he wasn't doing an exercise right and that would mean something, nobody missed people nagging at them. 

He missed how he called him 'Mick' and how _ right _ it sounded on his tongue. He was thirsty for it.

But, he hadn't heard from Ian in a month and he wasn't about to go calling him either. He had self-respect. More or less.

Mickey had tried to forget about Ian, to move on. Mandy had taken him clubbing. Twice. On one occasion, he'd even hooked up with a guy, a one-night-stand. The day after, he hadn't regretted it, but he realized he didn't want that. He was not a teenager anymore, he'd started his gay sex life late and what he needed was to wake up with the same person in the morning, every morning. Someone who could understand him. His sister had then suggested to meet a guy for a date, she could help if he wanted, take things slowly. Problem was, Mickey couldn't just date ‘a guy’, because his mind and heart were still stuck on one, specific, beautiful bastard. 

In a word, he was fucked.

Mickey couldn't even be allowed to try to forget him, because the ginger had left a mark on him. Whenever Mickey would look at himself in the mirror, appraising his fit body, he'd think of his training sessions with Ian. Even eating a fucking cucumber had the same effect. And not for some phallic reference, because healthy food made him remember the fights he had with Ian about eating more vegetables and fruit.

Then Mandy had the brilliant idea to give him every magazine number he featured in. It was so weird to read about himself, about his initial struggle against the change and after, about his progresses and achievements. It almost made him feel proud of himself, about who he was now. As Mandy had stated, he was an independent single lady. As much as Mickey didn't convene on the lady term, he could be okay with the rest of the definition. He had a good job that he actually liked and his apartment was a mess again, but at least it was _ clean _ mess. And yes, he was single. How he should've been before, instead of getting tangled in two relationships at once. It had been bad for him, for Eddie and even for Ian. That had been the only thing he regretted about the program because yes, he didn't want to admit it but he was pretty fucking grateful to the magazine. It had really turned his life around.

What he wasn't grateful for, was the magazine's website. It was full of pictures of him in ridiculous poses or actually _ good _ shots; of Ian, always so cool and handsome and…

There were pictures of them laughing together, or fighting, or, well. Mickey couldn't describe it, but some pictures he wasn't able to tear his eyes off. They showed glances and small touches between him and Ian. Stuff he hadn't noticed back then. Mickey had to save a few, just ‘cause. He was keeping them in some remote folder in his phone that he would find himself looking at, usually at night before going to sleep.

His favorite picture was one with Mickey on a bench, lifting quite a heavy weight, and Ian standing behind him, helping with the lift. The redhead was looking down at him and their eyes were locked, both of them smiling at each other.

When Mickey had decided to watch the videos as well, he felt a stab to his heart.

How the hell had things ended so badly between Ian and him?

There were so many things they should or shouldn't have done and yet they did all the contrary. Ian should have told him about Caleb, Mickey shouldn't have looked for someone else. They shouldn't have continued cheating. They should have been true to their feelings, or at least Mickey should have been. 

What Ian and he had had, hadn't been wrong. What had been wrong was how they'd started and the choices they had made. 

Mickey wasn't sure about Ian's feelings for him, but he knew he couldn't have dreamt it all. Surprisingly enough, he had enough self-confidence now to be able to think that.

Maybe he should just think of his relationship with Ian as something in the past; a lesson, really. Maybe he should just focus on himself, on what he'd accomplished, on what he was still doing.

Not only did he have a legal job he liked and was gaining respect, he was still taking good care of his body and mind. 

Since he didn't like running alone, he'd started dragging his sister along. He'd still go to the gym, albeit less frequently and he could still use the machinery that the magazine had gifted him with. His dietary regime… to keep it healthy was the hardest, but at least Mickey was trying. He was starting to eat more junk food, but that's what a sedentary job causes. Even so, during the weekends he'd eat more correctly and breathe more fresh air.

Mickey scratched at the stubble he was growing in. This time he'd sworn he would get it flourishing, no patchy beard. The five-day stubble he had now going on was already proving the contrary by growing uneven. Damn him and his hairless genes. He looked so young without a beard, which was good to get attention at clubs, but not so much in a garage full of virile men and women. He had to get really mad once to get the respect he wanted from the mechanics.

One of them, Rogers, knocked on his door and opened it once Mickey told him to come in.

“Hey, boss,” he said with a grin. Mickey rolled his eyes. That's what they'd started to call him recently, after his fit of rage.

“What?” he asked without looking up from the computer screen.

“There's this guy here who's asking for you. I mean, we told him you're not a mechanic, but…” Rogers shrugged.

“Did he give you a name?”

“Didn't ask,” the mechanic grinned like a bratty kid and he earned a scowl from Mickey. “But he's like this ginger, good looking guy. I don't know, man. Just listen to what he's gotta say and take some money off him.”

A good looking ginger, huh?

Mickey nodded calmly, but his heart was already drumming against his ribcage.

So what if he was Ian? What if he wasn't? He wouldn't be disappointed. He could keep his cool either way…

Yeah, _ sure _ .

Damn, he felt like such a girl. It was irritating. Especially when he was trying to grow a manly beard.

“Just send him in,” Mickey said.

“Want some cookies too, boss?” Rogers snarked. “You put some more money on my check and I'll be your secretary too.”

Mickey flipped him off, because he was a true Sir. “Just fucking send him in, assface.” 

Rogers chuckled and closed the door behind him as he left. Once alone, Mickey had to force himself not to start adjusting his shirt and jacket, or check his face in the mirror. 

Someone knocked the door again and Mickey cleared his throat.

“Come in.”

He had been expecting him, and at the same time he hadn't. Fuck, they hadn't spoken for a month, why did he have to feel so jittery about having Ian in front of him?

Mickey took about five seconds to assess Ian. He was handsome. He was always fucking handsome. But he also had dark circles under his eyes and his irises appeared dull, until they met Mickey’s. They made contact and Mickey had to lower his gaze from the intensity. 

“Hey, Mick,” Ian greeted, his voice soft and fuck if he missed it. He missed Ian calling him 'Mick' so fucking much.

Still, Mickey wasn't going to just forget about everything and jump up to kiss those fucking lips. He wasn't even sure why Ian was there, standing in front of him. 

“The fuck you want?” Mickey grumbled. He faked typing something on his computer. “You crashed your car or something? If so, you gotta ask a mechanic first.”

Ian shook his head and came closer. “You grooming your beard?”

Mickey shrugged. “Maybe. Whatever.”

“You look good anyway.”

“Cut the shit, Ian. What do you want from me?” Mickey stood up then. He had an aggressive pose, but he simply wanted, _ needed _ to know right fucking now. He couldn't just be there to exchange pleasantries. 

“Yeah, right,” Ian nodded. “Me and Caleb, we're definitely over. And, uh, I know you broke up with Eddie as well.”

“And it took you a month to tell me this?” Mickey said, hating that little sparkle igniting in his chest against his will.

“No. I wanted to take a little time before coming to you. I needed to sort things out and there's my family too now and… I had a bit of an episode. Bipolar, you know. I preferred to meet you again being lucid,” Ian chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You don't want me coming here all crazy and shit.”

“I want you anyway,” Mickey snapped. Seeing the surprise showing on Ian's face, he avoided his stare by looking intensely at the naked woman calendar. “So, why are you here then?” 

“I want you back,” Ian stated, voice steady and firm. 

Mickey opened his mouth to talk, but no sound came out. He had to clear his throat once, before grumbling, “Not that you had me before. I was the affair, remember?”

Ian sighed. “I'm sorry, Mick. You were never- I never thought you were something on the side. But I didn't realize… and then you were with Eddie… Fuck, it was a mess, wasn't it?”

That, Mickey could agree on. “You started it.”

“I did, yeah,” Ian nodded. “And now I'd like to start again. The right way this time.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey leaned back against the desk, his arms crossed defiantly. “And what is the right way exactly?”

The redhead smiled. “With you. And only you, right from the beginning. Well, new beginning.”

The sparkle in his chest increased, its warmth spread through Mickey’s body. “And why do you think I'm still interested?” 

Ian continued to smile, but Mickey could see the doubt in his green eyes. The fear. “You told me you love me.”

True. True. _ True _ . But Mickey shrugged. He wasn't going to throw his heart on the table so easily like the previous time. “Yeah. Weeks ago. I mean, it's quite a long time ago-”

“I love you.”

That got Mickey to shut up.

“I love you, Mick,” Ian repeated, his eyes determined, fixed on Mickey. “I’ve been in love with you for months but I couldn't see it. Fuck, my family had to make me notice. And now if it's too late… then I'm gonna make you love me again.”

Ian loved him. He friggin' loved him. He'd said the word ‘love’ so many times in a short span that Mickey was quite glad he had the desk to lean on.

The redhead mistook his silence for a refusal. “Is it too late?” he asked, his mask of self-confidence showing its cracks.

In that moment Mickey knew; it was up to him whether to close this relationship forever or give it a try again. Maybe it would scorch him another time, leave a burning scar he'd take forever to heal. Or maybe it could become what he'd wanted all along - even better. Whatever he was going to choose, Mickey didn't want to regret it later. He already regretted so many things in life.

“I don't know, man…” Mickey said, scratching the side of his nose. “You can't just barge in and expect me to just welcome you open-armed.”

“I can wait,” Ian said, nodding. “I wasn't expecting you to accept me so easily…”

A smile curled Mickey’s lips, because yes, from the disappointment in both Ian's voice and expression, it was clear the redhead had expected just that. And now he couldn't play it cool.   

“That's right. That'd be just presumptuous on your part,” Mickey decided to tease him a little. “I mean, not like you're the most modest person on the planet, but…”

“Okay, I get it,” Ian muttered. He raised his hands in surrender, turning towards the door. “Maybe it's best if I just go.”

“Wait a damn second.” Mickey rolled his eyes. “You're an impatient shit, aren't ya?”

Ian turned around and there was a little hope in his eyes now. “When it comes to something I really want, yes.”

Mickey scoffed. More to hide his embarrassment than anything. “You sure it's me you want, though?”

Ian looked at him, surprised. He moved a little towards Mickey. “Yeah, of course it's you.”

The older man shrugged, his arms still crossed. “You sure didn't want me when I was fat.”

“I didn't like how you appeared to be,” Ian corrected, “Then I got to know you, the real you and it was beautiful. You started seeing it too and you fought to finally love yourself. I fell in love with you in the process.” 

Fuck Ian and fuck his words. Because Mickey discovered he'd wanted to hear them, he had needed them, so much. 

He didn't want to lose them.

“Then, uh, then you'll be okay if I become a fatass again or I decrease the number of showers,” Mickey said, defiantly. Mostly because defiance was the only thing he could show apart from the desire to just get his arms around that man.

Ian chuckled. “If that's what you want… or we can compromise.”

“One shower every Saturday,” Mickey proposed. He stood up and took a little step. 

Ian took the hint.

“Every other day?” he suggested and took a step forward.

“Nah, I admit I actually like to shower in the morning. But pizza… pizza is going to be on the table for every dinner.”

“Once a week,” Ian said and they both got closer. “Twice depending on how often you exercise.”

“Yeah… about that. You know, now with work and everything, I don't have enough time to exercise.”

“I can help you,” Ian replied, taking a step at the same time as Mickey. They were now just a step apart.

“You'll get a new Fair next year, you'll be busy too,” Mickey argued. He didn't know if he should look at Ian's eyes or lips. They were both so magnetic.

“Not for my boyfriend,” Ian replied immediately. He closed the remaining distance between them before Mickey could. “I’m serious, Mickey. I want _ you _ . I don't care if you put on weight, lose your muscles or whatever. As long as you're happy. And about me… I might have a flawless body- hey, don't snort, you know it's true- but I come with a burden. I'm a package deal with bipolar. You may think you can work with it just fine, but it's not fine. Caleb thought it, but he'd never accepted or understood my disorder. So I'll understand if you can't deal with it...”

Mickey placed both his hands against Ian's cheeks. They were so close their breaths intermingled and he got Ian to zip up.

“You finished?”

Ian's eyes widened, but nodded anyway. “I guess?”

“Good. Now listen. I get that it's hard, I'm not underestimating anything, but it's part of you and I want it all.” He let himself smile a little. Fuck, he said it. “Plus I like myself as I am now. I don't plan on becoming a lardball any time soon.”

Ian chuckled, but there was too much tension for the laugh to last. He was looking down at Mickey’s lips. The shorter man licked the bottom one. 

“Want to kiss me now?”

“Oh God, yes,” Ian sighed with relief and leaned down to finally meet that mouth with his own again.

Mickey smiled in the kiss and was ready to reply with equal intensity. He lost himself wrapped in Ian's arms, but in some part of his mind he wondered if he’d made the right choice.

 

***

 

A year and a half later. Or: Fuck  _ yes _ , right choice!

 

Mickey was woken up by a warm kiss pressed against his nape. His lips curled up in a hint of a smile. It was an instinctual reaction. Another kiss, a bit wet and so fucking nice, this time closer to his ear.

The chain of kisses continued and Mickey relaxed his shoulder to give it even more space. It was good. So good…

So fucking early.

“Fuckhead, I'm not falling for your tricks,” he muttered with a groggy voice, sleep still in his mouth. His mind was fuzzy, but not enough to be fooled.

He heard Ian chuckle from behind him. The redhead came closer to place his lips on Mickey’s uncovered shoulder.

“You should, today's a good day to go for a run,” Ian said. Mickey felt the redhead’s fingers caress his stomach under the blanket. He loved that feeling, being caged in Ian's embrace. He'd missed it the previous month.

_ Today's a good day _

Ian hadn't felt so positive last April, when he'd spent a couple of weeks buried in bed during a depressive episode. There had been no kisses on the neck or warm embraces. Mickey had woken up feeling cold or with the springs of the couch against his side when Ian couldn't bare his presence in bed.

Mickey had meant it when he'd said he wanted it all. Good days and bad days. Days where he had to stop Ian from his high, where he had to reassure him about his hallucinations, or where he simply had to put some distance between them. He had never regretted it, and he was rewarded every time.

The older man caught Ian's hand and placed it on his chest.

“Today _ will _ be a good day but it's 5:30 in the fucking morning. Not moving for at least another two hours,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

Of course the oversized ginger puppy had to disagree. “C'mon…”

Ian went on the attack again with a massive snuggling session that was great, really. But Mickey had no intention to budge.

“Nope. You get your ass up, I'm staying here, all cozy in this comfortable bed,” Mickey said, a smirk cracking his face. “And you can think of me sleeping while you're running with Toad.”

“His name's Todd,” Ian corrected.

“Looks like a toad anyway.”

Todd was Ian's current pupil. He actually had some resemblance to a toad, because of his round eyes and large lips and a sum of other features that allowed Mickey to give him the nickname. The man was small and weak but he never stop talking, even when gasping for air during a training session. He was by far Ian's least favorite Fair ever. Todd also had the guts to call his instructor at unholy hours just to ask him menial stuff like if he was allowed to eat a yogurt after 11:00 pm.

Mickey always preferred him to Ian's pupil last year, this insistent former anorexic girl with a crush on Ian who couldn't accept that her beloved was gay and in an established relationship with a man. Laurie had hated Mickey since day one and Mickey had immediately reciprocated. So yeah, Todd the Toad with his chattering and invasiveness was still Mickey’s favorite. 

Ian hadn't hinted about detaching himself from Mickey, yet. The older man made him notice.

“You going or not?”

Ian only embraced him tighter. “Still got about twenty minutes…”

Mickey recognized that tone of voice. He loved that tone. It was husky and low and went straight to his dick. Only nice things happened when Ian would talk like that.

“You sure?” Mickey asked anyway. He wasn't looking forward to Todd calling them in the middle of fucking because Ian was late for their appointment. It had already happened once.

He felt Ian's nose moving against his skin. His boyfriend was nodding.

“Well, then…”

Mickey diverted Ian's hand down his body. From his chest, to his abdomen, to his half hard cock. Ian's fingers eagerly enveloped it, stroking it lazily. 

“Mh… maybe even half an hour,” Ian muttered. Mickey wasn't going to protest. The redhead started kissing his skin again, this time taking things further. He kissed behind Mickey’s ear, then bit playfully at his lobe. Mickey turned his head to meet Ian's lips with his own, exchanging a sloppy, long, good-morning kiss that Mickey would try to get every morning. 

“Good morning, Mick,” Ian greeted, pressing his mouth against his boyfriend's another time.

“Yeah, you too…” Mickey decided only then to open his eyes. He liked the first thing he saw to be Ian's sleepy face, his green eyes tender and loving. Of course he would never tell him something so mushy.

Still, when they smiled at each other, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Would they ever go away?

They had no need to continue talking. It all flowed naturally between them. From his arched position on his side, Mickey leaned down on his back instead, Ian following by laying half on top of him. His hand left Mickey’s cock to grab the lube from the nightstand. 

Mickey was still _ relaxed _ from last night, but when they weren't caught in the heat of passion, when buttons got lost and they would just fuck on the first sheltered surface available, Ian preferred to take his time preparing him.  

Ian kissed him again while he coated his fingers with the lube. Mickey opened his legs for him when his boyfriend's slicked fingers went to probe against his asshole. He moaned but there were no more lips there to stifle his sound. Ian was kissing him on his chin, then his neck and his collar bone. That warm, wet trail continued to Mickey’s pecs and lingered on his belly.

“Have I ever told you I love your belly?” Ian asked, uncovering Mickey’s lower body and biting sweetly at the skin of his abdomen.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Like every fucking time you go down there.”

Ian nodded, nonplussed. “Yeah, ‘cause it's true.” He kissed his belly again. “It's soft, but hard underneath too. I could use it as a pillow and I still know you're strong.”

Mickey couldn't deny that. He was more than able to endure as many sit ups as Dr. Ian prescribed. Yet he liked his beer too much to get washboard abs like his boyfriend. But then, Ian loved it and he was thoroughly comfortable with it. So, just perfect.

“Whatever, why don't you put your mouth to better use?” Mickey grumbled, even if he actually appreciated Ian's simple kisses on his skin. Especially when the redhead was fingering him at the same time.

Ian smiled. “Pretty please,” he teased.

Mickey scoffed. “With a fucking cherry on top.”

The redhead didn't insist any further and licked a fat stripe on the underside of Mickey’s cock. Okay, that was better.

Mickey hummed in appreciation and placed both hands on top of red hair, locking strands of it in his fingers.

“Yeah…” he wet his lips, feeling on overload because of both simulations, from the front and from behind.

Ian was now bobbing his head, taking it in his mouth as much as he could. Which was all of it since the fucker was so good at deep-throating. He stopped when he found Mickey almost ready to burst. He kissed him again on the belly and slipped out his fingers.

“Condom?” the redhead asked, leaning up to meet Mickey’s lips with his own. The other man nodded. The last morning they had forgotten the condoms Mickey had to go to work with Ian’s cum still inside (because he'd been too lazy and had foregone washing up thoroughly in order to continue sleeping).

“Yeah you gotta shoot your load in the rubber, man,” Mickey said. He responded to the kiss, tasting himself mixed with Ian's spit. Then he grabbed a condom and teared it open, quick to roll it on his boyfriend's dick. “There. All set.”

Ian chuckled and pressed his lips again against Mickey’s. “You're so romantic in the morning.”

The older man snorted and adjusted himself under Ian, opening his legs for him, giving him a good sight of his smooth thighs. Yeah, he wasn't waxing so often nowadays, but it was still nice sometimes. Either way, his skin was always covered in hickeys and bite marks. Mickey liked that.

Ian leaned down again to kiss him on the lips one more time, before he pushed inside his boyfriend with a loud groan. Mickey grabbed Ian's arms, but he wanted them closer even if it meant looking needy. With Ian he felt comfortable to be and behave as he wanted. Usually, Ian shared the same desires. The redhead pushed his body down against Mickey’s, flush and trapping his boyfriend's cock between their abdomens, creating that nice friction Mickey thoroughly appreciated with a loud moan.

Twenty minutes? Maybe thirty?

Their lovemaking morning sessions were never quick. They would take things slow. Very slow. They couldn't be bothered to look at the time, it'd just ruin the mood.

Someone else did bother, though.

They had just come together, Ian was still on top of Mickey, both taking their time before even hinting at moving from each other, when Ian's phone buzzed.

Ian groaned. Mickey chuckled.

“Bet 20 bucks it's Toad,” the spent, dark haired man said.

Ian tossed the knotted up condom in the nearby bin. He sighed when he took the phone and saw that Mickey was right.

“Hey Todd,” Ian greeted without much enthusiasm. Mickey chuckled louder. “Ah, you're already outside? Yeah, sorry man, I'm on my way.”

Ian closed the call and shot out of the bed to grasp at his clothes.

“On your way, right,” Mickey commented. “It's good that you never told the man we live like ten minutes by foot from his house.”

“Ang neve sha he knom,” Ian blabbered with a toothbrush in his mouth. They'd never survive with Todd ambushing them at their front door.

“Not gonna tell,” Mickey promised. He stretched in bed like a satisfied cat and he rested on his side.

Ian came rushing back, putting on his sweats at the same time. “Okay, gotta go. I'll see you when I come back?”

“Mh,” Mickey nodded, watching Ian struggling at zipping up his sweater. “Gonna sleep a bit more… maybe you'll catch me in the shower.”

They both grinned and Ian hurried up kissing Mickey on last time, before putting on the trainers. “Love you.”

“Right back at ya,” Mickey kept a smile on that didn't leave until he heard the door close. Then he closed his eyes, punching his pillow to get it as fluffy as he wanted. He could sleep for another hour and after he'd have a nice shower and hopefully get banged again by his boyfriend who would also accompany him to work.

They had plans to drive directly from there to the Gallaghers house that evening. They had their usual Thursday dinner night planned. Usually that mean spaghetti and a movie in the company of the whole Gallagher family, Kev and Vee included. Ian was always enthusiastic about attending and Mickey didn't dislike the folks, which was practically saying he loved them. Mandy would sometimes come along, too.

Mickey turned on his other side, burying his face into Ian's pillow. Sometimes he couldn't believe how much his life had changed in the last few years. All thanks to that meddlesome creature that was his sister. He'd started with a dirty appearance, an unsanitary apartment and so many homophobic complexes that made his life miserable. Now he had a job he liked, that made him satisfied and a nice apartment he shared with his boyfriend.

Mickey snuggled into his pillow and let sleep slowly take over, drifting off while thinking that starting his day in such a great way was the fucking best. Maybe he had really become sappy as fuck, but he was legitimately happy. Mickey smiled softly – he didn't regret taking that chance at all.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank God and my parents..  
> Lmao, no kidding.  
> I'd like to thank all my readers here and my beta ElfyDwarf. Hope you liked the story and... uh... that's it, I guess. Even if at the beginning I was unsure, I had fun writing this fanfic <3
> 
> my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, reviews, lots and lots of kudos... Always deeply appreciated. 
> 
> Want to chat? Want to vent about season666? my tumblr [JAinsel & the Ships](https://jainsel-and-the-ships.tumblr.com)


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